


Chiasmus

by Duchess_On_Fire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura, Angst and Feels, Hale Family Feels, M/M, No Incest, POV Derek, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Peter has seriously dubious morals, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles is 17, but that's why we love him, very light crossdressing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:59:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7046698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchess_On_Fire/pseuds/Duchess_On_Fire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles meets Peter. Derek meets Stiles.</p><p>(AKA: the one where Derek keeps buying Peter's boyfriend gifts and neither Peter nor Stiles complains.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peter

After that dreadful night with the fire, Derek couldn’t stand to stay in Beacon Hills any longer. Neither could Laura, but it seemed that the second her eyes turned red that night, she stopped thinking of him as her brooding and annoying little brother and rather as _the only pack she had left_. 

They both knew it was Derek’s fault. She didn’t blame him, only because he already blamed himself enough, and she knew he would have done everything she wanted just to pay a fraction of what he owed them after Kate Argent. He would have become an omega, gladly. But instead, it was Laura who did everything he wanted; because he knew she was terrified of losing him too. 

They stayed for a few days, looking at the helpless human police trying to make things right again after the biggest and richest family in Beacon Hills was decimated in one single night. Mostly they stayed for Peter, waiting for him to heal, as he should be able to. Waiting for him to wake up and take care of them, because God knew they were way too young to be a pack on their own. 

But Peter didn’t heal, and he didn’t wake up. He looked horribly human, lying in that hospital bed, half his face and body wrapped up in medical gauze, without his crooked smile and his blue eyes burning with mischief. 

Everyone was trying to help, but Alan Deaton was the only one who really did. He provided a packless emissary from Santa Barbara who would enroll as a nurse in the daycare facility and take care of Peter while they were gone, in exchange for a healthy amount of money every month. When everything was signed and the checks cashed in, they left, without looking back. 

They traveled. They fought. They also cried, even if neither of them was willing to admit it. It took a long time for Derek to tell the difference between day and night, between one big city and another. Most of the time he seemed to be floating, blindly following Laura like a balloon tied to her wrist, letting himself be pulled and dragged without a word. He didn’t really know when he started being himself again. There wasn’t a precise epiphanic moment that made him realize that he had to live his whole life without them. He just did. 

Sure, he was more brooding and quiet than ever, maybe even a bit cruel on the edge, but that was alright. Because Laura wasn’t the same anymore either, and they knew that as long as they had each other, they would find a way. 

They really settled for the first time in Nebraska, where they met another pack who knew the Hales and welcomed them as some sort of odd duo, gravitating around their own pack without ever merging. At the beginning, they didn’t plan to stay for long. Nebraska was only one point on their way to nowhere, but one week turned into two, then into a month, and before they knew it they were working full time on the farm for Richard Bennett and their suitcases were empty and forgotten at the back of a wardrobe. Then, Timothy - Richard’s and Janet’s eldest son - started courting Laura and Derek started to think of the farm as something close to a home.  
That’s when the phone rang, telling them that Peter had finally come out of his lethargy. 

It had taken only one look at Laura’s face for Derek to know that they were going back to Beacon Hills. And so they had packed their bags, said their thanks to the Bennetts and left without looking back, again. 

Coming back to Beacon Hills after all these years was strange. Everything was the same in the way little towns never really changed, and yet, nothing would ever be the same for the Hales. 

They found Peter in an ice-cream parlor across from the town hall, eating a sundae dripping with chocolate sauce and flirting with the staff. _Some things really were the same_ , Derek thought while Laura shifted from foot to foot in front of their uncle, clearly torn between throwing herself at him like a little girl and giving space to the man who had spent the last six years in a coma. 

For a minute, the three of them just appraised each other carefully, more like strangers than ever. Until finally, Peter said:

“Dear God, if I knew you were my new alpha I would have stayed in my bed for another decade.”

Laura choked on a teary laugh and the both of them took a chair in front of Peter. Derek wanted to say that it was just like before, the Hales inside the ice-cream parlor during a sunny day, but there were far too many ghosts around them, far too many children missing. 

Laura ordered a strawberry sundae and Derek a black coffee. 

“To match your guilt-ridden soul?” Peter snickered. 

Derek felt himself going rigid under Peter’s blue eyes. There was a cruel spark to them, unlike any kind of dirty tricks he was used to before the fire. He stayed quiet, watching the cold, vicious smile twisting his uncle’s lips, slowly realizing that Peter might have been in a coma all those years, but maybe not as unconscious as they had thought. 

But Peter looked away and took another spoonful of ice cream before Derek could see how much of his uncle was left and how much was new. 

“So, what do we do now?” Laura asked carefully.

“We reconquer,” Peter answered, as if it really were just another sunny day in Beacon Hills.

***

They didn’t go back to the house.

Instead, they bought a large apartment in the old industrial quarter. It was far from prying eyes and where nobody would complain about the noise or… other things. Laura started to get back in touch with the town and its people, while Derek and Peter did what neither he nor Laura could have done before: they began to track down the Argents. Richard Bennett already knew what happened and it only took one phone call before most of the biggest packs in the country kept an eye out for the Argents, now suspected to have turned rogue.

Peter didn’t seem entirely satisfied with that and Derek knew that his uncle wanted blood, most preferably Kate’s. But in the meantime, they focused on rebuilding what they had lost. That also led to the first fight between Laura and Peter since they came back to Beacon Hills.

“I’m not turning anyone!” Laura exclaimed.

Even if her tone was firm, there was a panicked flicker in her eyes, like a cornered animal.

“We need to be stronger, _you_ need to be stronger, and we can only do that with a pack.”

“We’re a pack.” Derek growled.

Peter snorted.

“Three barely makes a pack. We need more. We need new blood to give us strength, otherwise it won’t matter if we find the Argents: we will just lose again. And I don’t know about you two, but I’ve already lost enough.”

Laura caught her lower lip between her teeth and glanced at Derek, clearly looking for help.

“Maybe we could just look for awhile,” Derek admitted. “Try to see who could fit, without rushing.”

Peter rolled his eyes but didn’t push when he saw Laura relax.

“Ok. No rushing, just looking.”

Of course, Peter showed up two days later with a terrified and bleeding kid between his claws.

“ _Are you kidding me?_ ” Laura screamed. “We said no rushing! That one barely looks legal! Where did you even find him?”

“In a graveyard.”

Now that he had gotten the kid to their apartment, Peter seemed to lose any interest about the situation and started going through the fridge for a late night snack. He seemed happy as a cat that brought its owner a dead bird.

“How could you be this… urgh, what’s your name?” she said, turning toward the kid who was still looking at them with bulging eyes. He jumped when Laura addressed him, shaking his head where blood was starting to dry along his eyebrow.

“I-I-Isaac.”

“Damn it Peter,” Derek hissed.

“You should really clean him up,” his uncle replied before taking a bite of his sandwich.

Derek took one look at Laura and saw her eyes turn red. Sighing, he took Isaac to the bathroom while Laura started yelling at Peter downstairs. In his hand, Isaac’s arm was limp but he didn’t seem to be on the verge of a panic attack, so that was a win.  
Derek took a wet cloth and started swiping the blood of the kid’s forehead, relieved to see it was only a minor cut.

“Did he do that to you?”

“Wha-What? N-No, he took me by surprise and I fell on a shovel.”

Good, one less thing to worry about if the kid decided to report this to the cops.  
Derek felt his patience wearing thin when he saw the five perfectly aligned holes in the kid’s collar, no doubt from Peter’s claws.

“Take off your shirt, I’ll give you one of mine and then drive you home. You don’t talk about tonight and you won’t ever see us again.”

Without letting Isaac answer, he went out of the bathroom and into his own room. He stopped a few seconds at the top of the stairs to listen to Laura telling Peter that he was a fuck-up and how they should all start going to church if the kid didn’t sell their asses to the cops.  
Snorting, Derek went back into the bathroom to see Isaac exactly how he left him, shirt still on.

“I’m fine, I can just go,” he started babbling, “I won’t say anything, I promise, it’s an old shirt anyway, I’ll just throw it in the trash when I get home.”

Derek frowned when he scented the kid. He smelled terrified, way more than he did when Peter brought him by the scruff of his neck like a disobedient cub.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but there are holes and blood on your shirt, that’s evidence. I need to take it and destroy it, just to be sure. Then you can go home.”

Isaac started shaking his head before Derek even finished talking. Taking matters into his own hands, he cornered the kid against the bathroom counter, ignoring his protests and even dodging one desperate punch before lifting his shirt.  
There were deep bruises. Lots of them. And Peter might be different now, but those looked far too old to be his doing.

“Who did this?”

“No one. Just kids from school.”

The lie was clear, backed up by his rapidly fluttering heart. Suddenly, Derek knew why Peter had picked this boy. Judging from the sudden silence in the flat, Laura had just figured it out too.  
Derek waited without a word, because contrary to Peter, he actually followed Laura’s orders. After a minute or so:

“Fine, we can keep him,” she said.

***

They turned Isaac the day after that.

Laura wanted to wait longer but neither of them was willing to send Isaac back to his father without him being able to defend himself. In the living room, Peter was being very smug.

“Are you sure? One hundred per cent sure? There is no going back from being a werewolf, you could die,” Laura repeated for what felt like the thousandth time.

“I’d be strong like you, right? And, you will teach me, right?”

“Of course, if we turn you, you’ll be family.”

This seemed to convince Isaac more than any promise of strength and power.

“No going back,” he confirmed with a determined look on his face.

Laura’s eyes softened and even Peter had his first genuine smile in a long time.

The following hour was the most excruciating they had since the fire. Derek paced back and forth in front of the couch where a fevering and shivering Isaac laid. Laura was sitting beside him, biting her nails with one hand and passing the other in the kid’s damp curls. Peter had left, complaining about the lack of furniture in the flat, and went to see a movie, saying to only disturb him if they needed to get rid of Isaac’s body.

When the bite took and Isaac opened his newly golden eyes, Derek called him anyway.

***

As much as Derek would enjoy watching Isaac kick his father’s ass with his new powers, the kid was still so young he could actually end up killing him, and it wasn’t a risk any of them was willing to take. Laura had agreed and so it had been decided that Isaac would just take his bags and come live with them for the rest of the summer, pushing his father around just enough to make him understand that it was in his best interest to just let Isaac go.  
They knew that it could only last for a while before Isaac’s father started asking the wrong questions, but they would deal with that when the time came.

As for Peter, he seemed to have lost any interest in Isaac and spent all his days in town. He was no doubt looking for new recruits, despite Laura telling him that she wouldn’t turn anyone until Isaac could control his shift.  
But even before the fire Peter had had troubles grasping the concept of hierarchy and he was the best at finding a loophole even in an alpha’s direct order.

And so, between two training sessions with Isaac, Derek had taken upon himself to follow Peter around, making sure that he actually waited before bringing them another pup.

“You might as well sit down,” Peter told him one day after spending thirty minutes sitting at an outdoor café. He had been doing nothing more than watching passersby through his sunglasses.

“Come on, Derek. I’m sure Laura will forgive you if you watch me from the table rather than lurk in the shadows. Have some coffee, six sugars was it?”

“Very funny,” he grumbled but still took a seat beside his uncle.

It truly was a beautiful day in Beacon Hills, hot and sunny, but a refreshing breeze still allowed all the townspeople to go shopping or just sit down near the fountain. Children were laughing and running around and everyone seemed to be smiling and enjoying the summer.  
Except him, because he had to babysit his slightly crazy uncle to make sure that he wouldn’t kidnap more teenagers without talking about it first.

“You know what, since you’re here, why don’t you pick one?”

“No thanks.”

“Aw, come on, Der-bear, don’t be a spoilsport.”

“I’m really not interested.”

Peter turned infinitesimally toward him and his voice grew colder than ever, whipping through the sunny air:

“Don’t make me regret forgiving you. Make yourself useful for once.”

It only lasted a blink and suddenly Peter was back to people watching, sipping his cappuccino with an agreeable smile. Derek felt a chill touch his spine but he didn’t know how to respond. Peter was right after all. Dating Kate Argent had been treason, and more than one pack would have cast him out or even killed him for the consequences of his actions, even if they were family.  
Especially if they were family.

Derek sighed and watched the show of a sunny peaceful day in Beacon Hills. After a few minutes skipping over reckless teens, busy moms, tired men and slow old people, he tried looking at them through Peter’s eyes – as opportunities rather than as human beings.

“Her,” he said finally, pointing his chin toward a skinny girl sitting by the fountain.

She had an unruly mess of ash blonde curls and was all by herself, hunched over and sickly pale. She reminded him of a little girl he had seen once at the hospital when his great aunt Charlotte still worked in the pediatric ward. She had a really bad case of leukemia and would watch other children run around the playroom with the longing look of someone who would give everything only to be allowed to join them.

“Not bad,” Peter admitted with a smirk, “Not bad at all. I knew I wasn’t wasting my time on you.”

Derek didn’t let himself fall for the praise.

“You had already picked her, hadn’t you?”

“About thirty seconds after sitting down, yes. But the fact that you managed to actually notice her is already something to be proud of. Don’t sulk, nephew. I’ve been playing this game far longer than you.”

Derek didn’t sulk but he could feel his own annoyance at his uncle’s gloating.

“If you already knew, what have we been doing here all this time?” He grumbled.

“Well…”

Silently Peter turned back into his original position, facing the shops lining at the left of the café. Even shrouded by his sunglasses – and now that he paid attention – Derek could follow his gaze, not just assessing passersby as he had thought, but looking straight at the bookstore.The double glass doors had been left open in order to let the breeze inside the shop.  
In the middle of the summer, there weren’t a lot of people in the bookstore –two as a matter of fact, beside the casher: a woman with graying hairs in flip-flops, and a gangly teenage boy dressed entirely in black.  
He looked at the teenager and didn’t find anything out of the ordinary except for the fact that he was in a stifling bookstore without AC during the holidays rather than outside with all the others.

Still, like Peter had said, his uncle had been playing that game longer than him.

“Should we consider him instead?”

“What? Oh no, that one wouldn’t make a very good wolf. Well, he would. Just not the kind we need right now. We ought to collect obedient pups before taming wild cubs, the girl will do just fine for now.” He rose from his seat and stretched before giving Derek’s shoulder a little tap with his rolled newspaper. “Come on, Der-bear, time to go home and convince your sister to bite another innocent pathetic human child.”  
Snorting, Derek followed him, but not without glancing one last time at the teenage boy.

Didn’t really look like a wild cub to him.

***

The girl’s name was Erica Reyes, or so Peter told them after promising Laura that he would look from afar and gather information _but without acting, Peter, or so help me God._

“Oh yeah, Erica,” Isaac chirped from the kitchen where he was helping Laura make dinner. “She’s in some of my classes at school. She has like, massive epilepsy or something.”

“Indeed, and that’s why she will make a fine wolf,” Peter said, delighted. “Think of how grateful she will be to have a normal life.”

“A normal werewolf life,” Laura corrected. “Still, we have to wait. Isaac’s first full moon hasn’t even come yet. We can’t control two new wolves at the same time. Especially not a she-wolf.”

“Of course we can,” Peter dismissed. “Derek will watch Isaac and you’ll watch Erica. How fitting.”

“And where will you be, exactly?” Derek asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Why, hunting inconspicuous little girls in the wood, of course. Where else?”

“That’s not funny, because it actually seems like something you would do,” Isaac noted.

Peter raised his eyebrows and even Derek couldn’t hide a smile. Isaac was starting to take his bearings inside the pack, falling into line but still growing mouthier every day. Exactly how every teenage cub should be.

“That one is starting to get cheeky, I think it’s time to get the muzzle. Derek, go get it in my room.”

“Of course that’s the sort of thing you would hide under your bed,” Isaac replied, completely unfazed. Beside him, Laura snickered.

“Oh trust me, sweetheart, that’s hardly the most shocking thing you could find under my bed.”

This time, Peter’s sharp smile revealed his pointy gleaming teeth and Isaac turned both red and white, wavering between blush and terror.  
Nice try, Derek thought, but all the Hales kids had learnt the hard way that Peter always won that sort of banter. He was just shameless like that.

***

Erica had a seizure at the grocery store.

Peter had called him from the hospital where he had followed the ambulance that took Erica there. As it so happened, Erica’s father had been contacted by the hospital but couldn’t be there in less than forty-five minutes. The nurse – who seemed to know Erica well – didn’t even bother calling her mother because the seizures were so frequent that they had stopped creating a panic a long time ago.

Derek didn’t think Peter had lied to them about that, but his narrative definitely helped win Laura over. She agreed to offer Erica the bite, even before Isaac’s first full moon. Derek knew his sister had a soft heart, and Peter knew it as well. Isaac was also given a say in the matter – he was, after all, pack now – and had agreed, claiming that he had never really talked to Erica before, but that having someone with him when school started again appealed to him.  
However, this time Peter asked Derek to collect Erica from the hospital and to offer her the bite.

“Why me? You didn’t need help with Isaac.”

“Yes, but Isaac wasn’t a virginal seventeen year old girl. Who do you think she will be more receptive to: the dark and handsome young stranger or his more handsome but slightly older uncle?”

“So you admit that you’re an old creeper.”

“… Either you come in and swipe her off her feet, or I do, and it will be much more literal.”

The memory of Isaac’s bleeding and shivering frame sprung to Derek’s mind.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

***

Erica was shy, meek and quiet for approximately three days after being bitten.

Then, Laura decided to take her on a shopping trip, thus re-creating the tradition of “girl time” to which Peter and Derek were already used from before the fire, but which made Isaac splutter indignantly.

“Don’t worry, you’re still her favorite,” Derek smirked, which made Isaac blush deeply.

Then, three hours later, Laura came back with a new pair of skinny jeans and a white blouse, far from the plaid shirts and loose trousers she started wearing on the Bennets’ farm.  
Erica was in a leather jacket, leopard heels, red bustier, and a black skirt so tiny it brought a carnivorous smile to Peter’s lips.  


“What’s up, bitches?” She greeted them with a sneer on her newly red lips.

“I changed my mind, I don’t want her in the pack anymore,” Isaac grumbled.

Laura laughed and ruffled his hair in passing. Erica seemed two seconds away from biting him somewhere soft.

“The full moon is going to be fun with that one,” Peter remarked, thriving in chaos, as always.

Erica didn’t live with them but she did spend all her days in the flat, or in the abandoned parking lot behind their building, training alongside Isaac. Despite Laura’s protests, his sister was clearly beaming at their expanding pack. Derek could see her becoming stronger already, but also happier. She laughed more often, she bossed them around with more pleasure and she particularly enjoyed kicking Derek’s ass in front of Isaac and Erica. Even Peter was laid flat on his back after a long play-fighting with Laura, even though he kept saying that he had let her win in order not to undermine her authority in front of the pups. None of them bought it.  
Things actually reached a pleasant status quo.

Was it even worth saying that Derek’s life never settled in something ‘pleasant’ for long?

“They’re coming back,” Peter announced one morning, bursting through the door from God knows where while Derek, Laura and Isaac were eating their breakfast.  
It only took one look at him to know who exactly he was talking about. His eyes were shining blue, not by some werewolf trick but by a threatening combination of blood-thirst and rage. It had been a while since they’d had to worry about that dark place Peter had slid into after the fire, Isaac and Erica being their sole focus for most of the summer. But summer was coming to an end. They were already working on emancipating Isaac so he could live legally with them, away from his drunk father.

“They contacted the real estate agency, they’re preparing the house for their return,” Peter kept on, his crazy eyes flickering from blue to gold and roaming through the apartment, as if already searching for a weapon. His pulse was speeding up and he had a manic smile on his face.

Isaac glanced at him with worry and slowly started to retreat behind Laura.

“So no need to worry, they won’t be back before a few days, probably not before school starts,” Laura tempered.

“Worry?”

Peter blinked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. His smile grew even more and a shaky laugh escaped his lips.

“No, we don’t need to be worried, we should celebrate! The day is finally coming: we need to prepare for battle! This is the perfect time. We know they’re coming but they don’t know we’re here!”

“Don’t they?” Derek asked. “It can’t be a coincidence for them to come back after all this time, just when we’re here too.”

“Fine, so they know,” Peter spat, “Doesn’t make a difference. We’ll kill them anyway. We need to take them by surprise, in broad daylight. The Argent bitch first, than the others if they decide to stand in our way. There are five of us, we can do it.”

Plastered against the kitchen counter, Isaac whimpered softly.

“We’re not dragging the kids into this,” Laura stated firmly.

Peter let out an incredulous laugh, his cruel eyes settling on his niece as if she were one of the Argents standing in his way.

“Oh, sweet, sweet Laura, did you forget that this is why we even bothered with them? Because we needed soldiers? Because we needed to make you stronger? You’re strong now, we all are. It is time.”

Laura pinched her lips and Derek knew exactly what she was thinking: she wasn’t strong enough yet. Strong enough to put the both of them on their back during a training session maybe, but not enough to take on an entire family of heavily armed hunters. But she couldn’t say that, because if she did, Peter could take it as an opportunity to challenge her, and right now, their uncle seemed perfectly capable of killing her just to finish his crazy plan. They needed him to see reason.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Derek finally asked. “What if we lose? Attacking them would be an act of war: that would give them a reason to put all of us down, for good. Even the kids.”

“Because they needed a reason the first time? What would you suggest then, nephew? To make love and not war? Because that worked out so well for you the last time you fucked that bitch.” Peter sneered, this time focusing his attention on him.

Derek gritted his teeth when he heard Isaac surprised inhale. This wasn’t right. They hadn’t even had the chance to make a proper pack and they were already fucking it up.

“No,” Laura finally said.

Before Peter could even respond, she let her eyes glow red and let out the most animalistic growl he had ever heard from her.  
_She sounds like mother_ , Derek thought, and judging from Peter’s surprised flinch, so did he.

“I’m not endangering the pack and rushing head down into what could be a trap. This time we’re going to be smart. We’re going to watch out for each other, and especially for the kids.”

Seeing Peter claws extending and his eyes shining yellow, Derek got to his feet, ready to pounce if his uncle lost it completely. But he didn’t need to, because Laura added:

“We need to be stronger, so we’re going to make more.”

After a few seconds of astonished silence, it was Isaac who finally asked:

“More what?”

Laura didn’t take her red eyes away from Peter who was already grasping the meaning of her words, his claws retracting and his irises turning back to normal.

“More wolves,” she explained coldly. “We need at least two others. We’ll offer them the bite; we’ll do it properly, just like we did with you. And we’re going to train them, to teach them how to fight, to teach you how to fight as a pack. We have as much right to be here as the Argents, so if they want to come at us again, they’ll have to do it upfront this time. No tricks, no arson at night while we’re sleeping. Because this time we will be waiting for them. _We’re_ the one setting the terms this time. We will fight them when we’re ready, and not a minute before. And this time, we will win,” she concluded, glancing at Derek. Her eyes sought his approval, though her voice made it clear that she had already made her mind about it.

She had Derek’s approval anyway. She was his alpha and the only person he completely trusted on this planet. He would do anything she asked.  
He nodded his assent and turned toward Peter, who did the same, his heart rate slowing down again even if his eyes were still asking for blood. Then, Laura turned toward Isaac, who looked absolutely unprepared for her request.

“Erica and I didn’t sign up for that,” he panicked.

“Yes, you did,” Peter said in his silky voice, more polite than he usually was, which frightened Isaac even more. “The second you accepted the bite, you agreed to fight alongside us. We told you that you could die. We never said it would only be from the bite.”

At that, Derek could see the kid turning white, stinking of terror and incredulity.

“Well shit,” Isaac whispered.

***

After that, Peter was a bit calmer but not enough for Laura and Derek not to worry. And this new tension in the pack affected Erica and Isaac the most. Erica was suddenly less present at the flat, while Isaac was out more often than not. Derek could sense the fragile layer of ice on which they had been standing began to crack and there was a growing panic inside his chest, as if he was already drowning.  
It couldn’t end now. For the first time, it felt as if they were rebuilding their home, as if they were actually allowed happiness, and not just some bleak substitute. It couldn’t only be for a month. That would be too cruel, to just wave this new life in front of him only to snatch it back a few seconds later.  
He knew Laura agreed, but she was the most affected by the slow defection of the kids and she just started retreating into her old self, the quiet one who had so perfectly matched Derek’s own misery.

As for Peter, he was a thousand miles away from these concerns. He didn’t even seem to notice the kids’ absence and was solely focused on the best way to decimate the Argents. He tracked the progress of the preparation of their house, going on long walks through town, no doubt looking for the best place to corner them, to hide only to strike from the shadows later. Peter had always been a bit dangerous, but he was now in full-predator mode. No survivors and to hell with the collateral damages.  
And as much as Derek didn’t like to admit it, he could feel himself following his uncle’s path.

Since they learned of the Argents’ return to Beacon Hills, his nightmares were filled with dead relatives trying to kill him and feverish visions of Kate. He woke up every morning in a cold sweat and the lack of sleep was only making him more prone to lash out at everyone. He wanted them dead as much as Peter did.  
And that was probably why the last evening of the summer holidays, he approached Peter instead of going with Laura and Isaac to talk with Isaac’s father. The Argents were said to arrive late in the night, their house fully ready, and Derek could feel a growing sense of urgency taking over him.

“We need to protect the house,” he said bluntly.

Peter muted their newly acquired T.V and turned toward him.

“I’m guessing you aren’t talking about the apartment, since we already took care of that.”

“You’re Kate Argent: you’re coming back to Beacon Hills, probably because you heard the Hales were back in town. What’s the first place you’re going to search?”

“The old house,” Peter said, grim.

“We need to be there before her, maybe put on some traps, just to keep her away.”

Peter stayed quiet but Derek could see the gears turning behind his eyes.

“Alright,” he said, rising up, “get what we need in the car, we’re going.”

The ride to the house was quiet; they were both too focused on the task at hand to talk. So close to Peter in the Camaro, he could feel how tense his uncle was, his eyes firmly fixed on the road. The house burning was most probably the last thing he saw before falling into coma.  
Once they got there, they split up, Derek going into the house while Peter took care of securing the edge of the woods. It spoke volumes that Peter agreed to let Derek handle the house without a word of protest or a joke.

Derek went into the remains of their home, trying not to think too much of the burnt walls or of the screams that still echoed between them. But it seemed that not everyone had that problem since he could see the remnants of beers and cigarettes, leftovers of teenagers coming to the old burnt house in the middle of the woods, free to indulge in underage drinking and pot.  
Derek wanted to kill them all.

Grinding his teeth, he set up the cameras they had just bought in several corners of the house, checking on his cell phone that he could have a clear view of anyone venturing inside. Then, he put up some harmless trap that would just make clear to any hunter that those grounds were not deserted. And if some stupid kid got caught in the wires, well… too bad for them.  
On his way out, Derek stepped on an inhaler, lost among the junk, and frowned. Without thinking, he put it in his pocket, amazed at the stupidity of a kid who would share a smoke with his friends when he was asthmatic. God, Derek hoped no one had died in his house since…

Definitely in a bad mood, he went out of the house just to hear his uncle chatting up what sounded like a teenager a few feet away.

“…and so when you look at it that way, it’s not exactly trespassing!” The young voice exclaimed, wavering at the end, clearly unsure if he was in trouble or not.

Spoiler alert, he was, Derek thought grimly. However, Peter didn’t seem to think that way…

“Even though I’m impressed by your lung capacity – really, love, that was an awfully long speech to give, you should breathe once in a while – I’m afraid you _are_ trespassing,” he said in his most charming voice, the one that made every waitress in Beacon Hills swoon and every casher blush.

“Come on, man, it’s the middle of the night and school starts tomorrow. I swear I’ll be out of here in a minute but I just need to get my friend’s inhaler back. He dropped it earlier and I can’t make him come back here again considering that I’m the one who made him get out of bed in the first place for one last stupid adventure before the summer ends, I’m sorry…”

“Well… I do have a weakness for pretty boys apologizing to me…”

“ _Are you kidding me?!_ ” Derek snarled under his breath, knowing that Peter could hear him perfectly.

On the edge of the woods, he could also hear the kid stutter.

“Wow… That’s - I don’t know if you flirting with me right now is sexy or creepy. Since we are in the middle of the woods at night and away from any kind of help, the scale is tipping toward creepy, dude.”

“But isn’t the fact that I’m dashingly handsome doing me any favors ?” Peter asked, clearly having the time of his life.

“No, I think it just shows that you have zero self-confidence issues. Congrats.”

Derek was torn: he could hear the rabbit-speed of the kid’s heart that betrayed his fear despite his show of cockiness. Now would be the perfect time to step in. On the other hand, any teenager dumb enough to come to his house to have fun on the last night of summer – or any night at all – only deserved to be stuck creepy-flirting with Peter for at least an hour.  
However, Derek didn’t have an hour to lose. The Argents were back, his pack was starting to split up and he hadn’t slept in two days. So he threw the inhaler at the kid’s back – restraining himself from throwing it at his head.

Ignoring the kid’s sudden yell and flailing, Derek approached the duo and gave Peter a pointed look. Of course, his uncle only ignored him, watching the kid with more attention as he picked up the inhaler.

“A friend of yours?” The kid sneered in his direction, while glaring down at the dirty inhaler.

“My nephew, we are still working on his manners. We just got him from the zoo where he was left as a child. Raised by wolves.”

“Oh, that explains it. I just thought decent human politeness had just passed a generation in your family or something,” the kid deadpanned.

Derek would have gladly bitten his head off but now that he could see the kid from up-close, he recognized him as the same kid from the bookshop all those weeks ago. His uncle had a crush. On a teenage boy. A teenage boy mouthier than even he was. Lord have mercy.

“Get out, this is private property,” he growled in a way that was frightening enough for the kid to take a step back. Towards his uncle. Damn it, Peter looked to be enjoying this far too much.

“Fine, fine, I’m going, Jesus… just, you guys aren’t going to call the cops, right?”

His uncle cocked his eyebrow.

“Why? Have some trouble with the law enforcement?”

“Oh yeah, tons of trouble. Actually I probably spent more time in front of the sheriff’s desk than anyone else in this town.”

After a few seconds where Derek was actually worried not to hear a lie, the kid finally looked between them as if they were particularly slow.

“…because the sheriff is my dad and I spend most of my childhood doing my homework at the station…?”

Oh. Of course. Out of all the kids in freaking Beacon Hill, Peter had to choose the Sheriff’s son. And right on cue, Derek could see the gears working behind his uncle’s eyes, weighing the pros and cons.

 _Cons: he was the sheriff’s probably underage son._  
Pros: he was the sheriff’s probably underage son.

“No, love, we won’t call the cops. But how about I see you again just to make sure that you’re not a deadly felon I should be worried about?” Peter asked with a sly smile.

At the instant, Derek didn’t know who looked more astonished: him or the kid, whose mouth was hanging open.

“ _You?_ Worried about _me_? And did you miss the part where I told you my dad is the sheriff?”

“Not at all, I heard you perfectly.”

After a beat:

“My dad has a late night shift at seven tomorrow.”

 _Oh, are you kidding me?_ Derek thought, disbelieving.  


“Then I’ll be there at a quarter past seven,” Peter said, happy as the cat who got the cream.

“Fantastic.”

Once the kid had tripped his way in the dark away from them, Derek said it out loud:

_“Are you kidding me?”_

**To Be Continued**


	2. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to give special thanks to Raeyl for her amazing beta work on this chapter.

“Are you _kidding me_ ?” Laura yelled the next morning, after Derek shamelessly sold Peter’s ass out.

“Sweetie, it really is too early in the morning for you to yell like that. Dear Isaac isn’t even fully awake yet.”

“Oh don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” Isaac said from over his bowl of cereal. 

For the first time in days, he didn’t seem like he was going anywhere and was just slowly eating his breakfast as his eyes darted from Laura to Peter. Derek could understand the entertainment: he was himself comfortably seated on the kitchen counter, enjoying his revenge.

“No one’s asking for your opinion,” Peter said, before being faced once again with Laura’s screams.

“He is _the sheriff’s son_ and is _underage_ ! Have you lost your fucking mind? Is this a game to you?”

“Do I even need to answer that?”

Isaac snorted in his cereal.

“I-I don’t even know what to say right now. Wait, actually yeah, I do: you are not meeting with this kid, Peter!”

“What’s with all the yelling?” Erica asked when she opened the metal door, her bag on her shoulder and with an outfit that couldn’t be allowed in school. Or anywhere that wasn’t a strip club for that matter.

“Peter’s grounded!” Isaac sing-sang with glee, ignoring Laura’s glare.

It probably said a lot about Derek’s pack that a predatory smile stretched on Erica’s lips, like a shark smelling blood.

“Ohhh, what did he do? Did he find a new pup?”

“Worse,” Isaac said, patting the seat beside him excitedly, “he has _a date_ with the new pup.”

Erica crooned just as Laura screamed.

“What?! Oh no, there is not a chance in hell that I’m turning that one!”

Deciding that it was time to save his sister from an aneurysm, Derek stepped in.

“We’re not turning him,” he looked at Peter, just to make sure his uncle hadn’t changed his mind since last time. “Right?”

Peter sighed dramatically: “Unfortunately no, he really wouldn’t fit in the pack right now.”

“ _Right now_ ?!” In front of them, Laura was verging on hysterics, “because you think later will be acceptable? Peter, I don’t know what happened to you in the last twenty-four hours but let me put it simply for you: _I’m not turning the sheriff’s kid_!”

“Stiles?”

Erica’s surprised gasp had at least the effect of distracting Laura from her fit.

“You know him?” Derek asked, and was even more surprised to see Erica avert her eyes, her lower lips secured between her teeth. She looked so much like the old Erica that it was disturbing.

“No. I mean yes. I just . . . I didn’t know he was gay. He’s always talking about Lydia Martin. Or whatever. I don’t care, I – anyway we’re going to be late for school, Isaac, you’re driving, come on,” and before anyone could react she grabbed Isaac by his shirt and dragged him through the door, carefully avoiding their eyes and seemed deaf to Isaac’s protests – or blind to the fact that he didn’t even have his bag with him.

Once the door had banged behind them, Laura turned fully toward Peter once again, hands on her hips.

“You happy with yourself?”

“Well, yes. I don’t really see how this is any of my concern,” Peter said, unapologetic.

“Seriously? She looked like she was on the verge of tears!”

“Schoolgirls have their heart broken every day, congratulations, she just became an adult.”

Outraged, Laura spluttered before finally sitting in a chair, exhausted already. It wasn’t even eight in the morning.

“Just… Just get out. I need to process all this and see how to make it right for us. Just go.”

Peter sneered, not a little bit affected. “What, I’m not grounded anymore?”

Laura glared at him one last time, but he was already out the door, whistling as if everything was right in the world. And it probably was for him; he had just pissed out Laura, shocked Isaac and probably made Erica cry, all before lunch. God, Derek could feel a massive headache coming.

“Just let it go,” he whispered softly, putting his hand on her shoulder, “the angrier you get, the happier he will be, you know that.”

“Of course I know that,” she spat, “I just don’t get it! Last night he was completely murderous, only focused on the Argents and now he just met this kid and he is . . .”

Derek hesitated for two seconds before saying: “He didn’t just meet him.”

Laura looked up, surprised: “What?”

“The kid. He . . . I don’t know how to say it but he has been watching him for a while now.”

“Oh, of course he did!” She threw her head back and closed her eyes, almost as if she was praying. Then, a few seconds later, she sighed. “It doesn’t even matter what I say, does it? He probably has everything planned out, from me yelling at him, to how he’s going to get what he wants in the end.”

She was right, and they both knew it, “That’s Peter, always two moves ahead of everyone else.”

“Dammit,” she muttered under her breath, kicking the chair in front of her. For a second, Cora and her petulant tantrums flashed in front of Derek’s eyes and he had to look away. “I just don’t get it; you know? Yesterday he was still murderous and crazy and-and . . . and now look at him! It’s as if he didn’t even remember about the Argents!”

“Well. . . maybe that kid is just another one of his things you know.”

Laura blinked at him, bemused.

To say that Peter was smart was like to say the sky was blue; he had a laser-like ability to focus that made him solve the biggest problems in about twenty seconds, but that also meant that Peter had a tendency to become. . .maniacal. Obsessed. Their mother used to refer to it fondly as “Peter’s things.”

Peter had things. They usually changed every two months and during that time, everyone had to bear with it. Some had been easy, like when he had his fixation on Japanese stamps or the Tudor Era. Some had definitely been uneasy, like when he dated the posh couple who used to own a fancy wine cellar in Beacon Hills. It had ended in a divorce and the woman stalking Peter, crying her eyes out to make him elope to Paris with her – even claiming that she was pregnant with his child. She wasn’t, it had been the husband’s.

Peter was eighteen back then.

So maybe, this kid was just Peter’s new thing. He would follow him around for a few weeks, feeling young and wild and then he would realize that seventeen-year-olds had zero conversational skills or any interests other than their grades and getting laid, and then everything would go back to normal with Peter being half crazy and homicidal.

Derek could see Laura follow his train of thoughts but clearly she didn’t come at the same stop as him, because her eyes went slightly wide and she bit her lower lips in a very un-Laura fashion.

“So let’s say I’m thinking of something that would really benefit the pack, but could possibly endanger someone?” She asked.

Derek could feel one of his eyebrow twitch. Out of the two of them, Laura had always been the one caring for outsiders, for secrecy, for making sure no one ever got hurt. On his worst days, Derek felt like he could murder a passerby and only regret it the day after. He was a bit like Peter that way. Except Peter would probably never regret it, especially since he woke up from his coma.

“I’d say it depends. What are you thinking about?”

“It’s the first day of school.”

Derek glanced at the counter, where Isaac’s bag had been forgotten.

“Yes, and ?”

“And today is the day the Argents come back.”

Just like that, Derek’s headache turned into massive nausea. Jesus, all this story with Peter and the kid had just made him forget about it. How could he forget something like that? How did he even manage to sleep last night?

Seeing his crushed expression, Laura jumped to her feet and shook him gently.

“No, no, no, Derek. Don’t you see? It’s good! You forgot about it, since you told me what happened this morning, even _I_ forgot about it! When I woke up, I was getting ready for battle, I thought of how I was going to buy some time with Peter for the new wolves but all I did was yelling at him for his _date_. Don’t you get it? Peter’s distracted, finally!”

Derek wasn’t exactly sure where Laura was going with that.

“So what are you saying? You’re okay with Peter dating the sheriff’s son?”

“Hell no,” she said, scrunching up her nose, “I’m seriously not okay with my thirty-six-year-old uncle dating a high schooler; but if I’m totally honest, I’d be willing to look the other way if that means he isn’t killing anyone or destroying our new pack from the inside.”

Derek frowned. He didn’t know how he felt about Laura’s sudden pragmatism. He never expected her to back down so easily and, honestly, he didn’t really want her to. What Peter wanted with the Stilinski kid, it reminded him way too much of what he and Kate had. He had always thought that Laura would put an end to it but now. . .  
Now Derek could see the slight tremor of desperation in her eyes. No wonder, Laura was the alpha, Derek realized bitterly. The second her eyes turned red, taking care of her pack became her number one focus, which was exactly why she had stayed with Derek all these years. She forgave him for getting their whole family killed; of course she would let Peter have his fling. How could Derek be so blind. . .  


“Derek, I . . .”

He looked up and saw her worried anxious expression. It made his stomach churn to see her like that. Would there ever be a day where he wasn’t the one putting that look on her face?

“I need you to tell me you’re okay with this,” she whispers. “It’s already hard enough, I . . . I can’t do it without you having my back.”

He let out a breathy laugh, even though he felt everything except amusement right now.

“I’ll always have your back,” he said, finally, because that was the only thing he was completely sure of.

Her shoulders sagged with relief and she pressed her forehead against his neck.

“Good,” It was barely audible, “because I want you to chaperon their date.”

“No way.”

She pinched his hip.

“Just because I’m allowing this doesn’t mean I’m leaving this kid with Peter for a whole night without supervision. Don’t make me use my alpha voice.”

“Fuck me.”

In the end she had to use her alpha voice.

***

Peter didn’t even blink when Derek followed him out that night - which completely sucked since the only bright side of this whole disaster would have been the satisfaction of annoying his uncle - but the man seemed completely unfazed.

“Honestly, I would have been disappointed if Laura hadn’t asked you to. Her predictability is one of the things I appreciate most about her. Plus, her tendency to embarrass you in any way possible. That’s why she’s my favorite.”

Derek could feel his irritation growing by the minute, and he barely resisted the urge to clench his fingers around the steering wheel. The only way to make his night even worse would be to dent his Camaro. 

“Oh cheer up, you little unhappy squirrel. I’m the one getting cock blocked by my own nephew.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course not. Do you know how easy it would be to just make you leave? I want to indulge your sister on this one, so that she gets off my back next time.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you. Now tell me, what exactly are kids listening to these days? I have a six year gap of pop culture to fill in.”

“I’m done talking with you.”

They spent the rest of the ride in silence. Well, Derek spent the rest of the ride being silent. Peter spent it commenting on Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift videos that he was watching on his phone. Derek would seriously consider driving them into a tree if he wasn’t sure they would both make it out in one piece.  
Finally, they arrived in front of the Sherriff’s house, where the driveway was free of any patrol car. Derek stayed in the car while Peter went out to ring the doorbell, looking every bit like a dashing suitor taking his date to prom. Except for the fact that it wasn’t prom and that he was twenty years older than his date.  


“ _Fuck_ !”

A thumping sound followed immediately, barely audible, but to their enhanced hearing it seemed to echo throughout the house.

“ _Ok Stiles, keep it cool, okay_ ?” the sheriff’s kid breathed out to himself.

Derek didn’t even need to look at Peter to know the man was smiling to himself right now.

There was a thumping sound of footsteps running down the stairs followed by a calmer path toward the door. There were a few seconds of silence – a clear sign that the kid was standing behind the door, either reconsidering all his life choices or just trying to act casual. Derek was hoping for the former. If his memories of school were fresh in his mind, it was probably the latter.  
Finally, the doorknob turned, revealing the willowy silhouette of the teen.  


“Hey,” he said, flailing his hands clumsily before burying them into his jean pockets.

 _This is too awkward to watch_ , Derek thought, turning his head the other way, where the neighbor’s cat was chasing a leaf. Unfortunately, nothing could prevent him from hearing the train wreck happening outside.

“Hello, Stiles. Are you ready?”

“That depends, are we going to the woods? ‘Cause I think it would be pretty redundant since that’s where we met. And creepy. That would definitely be creepy.”

Peter chuckled.

“As enticing as it would be, I’m going to save that for our second date. I was more thinking about a movie. There is a cinema near Beacon Hills showing classic horror movies, is that to your liking?”

“Hmm… Define classic?”

“Either Browning’s _Dracula_ or Wagner’s _The Wolf Man_.”

 _You got to be kidding me_ , Derek thought. At the exact same time:

“Oh, dude, _The Wolf Man_ ? Let’s go!”

“Werewolves over vampires, huh? Interesting . . . Shall we?”

“Classic horror movies, really?” Derek gritted out between his teeth. Not even the dark sky could prevent him from seeing Peter’s lips twitch.

“Sweet ride, I was actually afraid you would show up in a sordid minivan with “free candy” painted on the side.”

“As much as I enjoy a good predator joke, how about you keep it down until we reach the movie theater, at least?”

“Your loss, I- _Holy crap_ there is someone in your car!”

“Yes,” Peter sighed “this is my nephew Derek; I do believe you already met him.”

Derek and the kid ogled each other for a few seconds. Stilinski didn’t appear anymore extraordinary than he did back then at the library, or even after that time in the woods. He was your average teenager; tall, gangly, brown hair cropped in a buzz cut, face dotted with moles, dressed with a graphic black grey t-shirt under a dark plaid and jeans. What Peter could see in him was clearly hidden to Derek.

“Yeah. . . Hard to forget those eyebrows. . . So you don’t have your own license or…?”

“Derek is our chaperon for the evening.”

The kid turned to Peter with disbelieving eyes.

“A _chaperon_ ? What am I? A Victorian maiden? Should I have told my dad to prepare the dowry?”

God, Derek was getting tired of this kid and his sarcasm.

“Turn down the sass and get in the fucking car,” he growled, making Stilinski jump.

Peter opened the back door for his date without a word but pressed Derek’s shoulder when he squeezed in next to Stiles.

“Don’t give him a heart attack, he’s only human and we really can’t afford to change his situation right now,” he whispered, so low that only Derek could hear.

“The fastest we do this, the sooner I can leave,” he only answered before hitting the road.

***

This night was a fucking disaster. 

Not to Peter or his date, that is. After ten minutes in the car, the kid had started to ignore Derek altogether, focusing his attention solely on Peter who – of course – thrived in it. Even glaring at Stilinski in the rearview mirror until he sweated wore off quickly, and so he could do nothing but listen to his uncle and his date flirt in the backseat. 

And now, here he was, stuck in front of a terrible movie with terrible special effects while trying to resolutely ignore the audible make out session taking place a few rows behind him.  
Derek didn’t know exactly where Laura drew the line on his duty as “chaperon” but honestly, if the Stilinski kid was suicidal enough to kiss Peter, all hopes were already lost. 

_I hate you for making me do this_ , he texted her angrily.

A moment later:

_How bad is it?_

Derek strained his ear briefly before replying:

_It’s going toward second base_

_Omg, Derek I’m so sorry. How long until the end of the movie?_

_Too long_

A howl on the screen so ridiculous that even Peter stopped his face-sucking for a second and laughed.

“I forgot how much that movie was terrible,” he heard him saying out loud, because why not? The room wasn’t even half filled and most of it was busy doing the exact same thing as them.

“It’s a classic!” The kid answered defensively. “You should understand, you being there when it first went out.”

“Are you actually _turned on_ by your own age jokes?”

“Maybe. Shut up.”

Dear God, somebody got him out of this hell, Derek thought.

***

Maybe Stiles Stilinski was magic. 

That was an option that Derek considered more and more these days since a month had passed and the kid was having his first visit inside their flat. 

A month. A whole month of relaxed, annoying, easy-going, sarcastic Peter. The more days he spent with the kid, the more he seemed like their uncle Peter from before the fire. A whole month without any death threats (or any serious ones anyway).  
A month since they had learned the arrival of Chris and Victoria Argent in Beacon Hills. And since destiny had a fucking twisted sense of humor, their daughter Allison actually shared two classes in school with Isaac and one with Erica. However, no sign of Kate or Gerard. 

When Isaac had called them the day after that terrible date night, telling them that he just had chemistry with a new girl named “Allison Argent,” Derek and Laura had to physically prevent Peter from going to the school and start a bloodbath. The three of them had finally hopped in the Camaro to get the pups at the end of the day and arrived just in time to see Chris do the same with his daughter. 

Derek was still pretty sure that, had Stiles not appeared in all his gangly teenage awkwardness, Peter would have wolfed out and started a new war. Instead, all they did was glare at Chris across the parking lot while the man himself seemed ready to stuff them with wolfsbane bullets at any second. 

And so started their uneasy truce. They still hadn’t exchanged any words with the Argents but without even needing to, they had fallen back to the silent agreement they had before the fire: the forest was theirs, the suburbs were the Argents’ and the town was Switzerland; the pups were not to interact with Allison at school – despite her “friendliness and attractiveness” they had to repeat to Isaac – and basically everyone pretended that the other didn’t exist. No scheming, no plotting, no surprises.  
And of course, they had to keep an eye out for Peter and his outbursts. However, even that didn’t really seem relevant because, guess what? Stiles’ best friend started dating the Argent girl, which meant that Stiles spent a lot of time with her. Was it necessary to say that Peter was ecstatic? He had an underage boyfriend who he could turn into his personal spy without even telling him. 

So yeah, Derek was pretty sure there was something fishy with the kid. Stilinski wanted to date Peter? Fine, he was an idiotic, hormonal, possibly mad kid with a lot of unresolved daddy issues. But he just _happened_ to get in the middle of the pack and the Argents? Out of a thousand kids? Peter’s boyfriend had to be the one befriending the Argent girl?

That was too much of a coincidence for Derek. 

Laura didn’t seem to share his concerns, though. If anything, she was more worried about the kid’s mental health. 

“I mean, come on, who can endure Peter for two weeks and still be asking for more?” She had finally asked one afternoon while watching over Erica and Isaac do the housework. 

“He’s seventeen. You do stupid things to get laid at that age.”

“Excuse me? We’re like, right here?” Isaac said from where he was sweeping the floor.

“Exactly, don’t think we aren’t watching you, no boning inside the flat.”

“Ewww, no way, Isaac’s gay and I’m worth so much more than that.”

“I’m not gay!” Isaac shrieked. “And even if you were the last woman on this face of the Earth, I still wouldn’t do you!”

“ _Excuse me_?” Erica snarled, waving her iron threateningly. “You’d be lucky to get even a piece of me.”

“Please, you’re trashy.”

“Oh that’s it,” she said. 

Derek was still feeling guilty about not managing to catch the iron before it hit Isaac on the side of the head. 

“All I mean is, I heard them talking on the phone,” Laura said fifteen minute later, when Isaac’s burn had disappeared and they had both been punished with more chores, “they seemed… _happy_. Like they were always sassing each other but being weirdly fond about it. This is disturbing, there has to be something wrong with him,” she had finally concluded.

“His mother died of a mental illness.”

Derek and Laura turned toward Erica where she was scrubbing the kitchen sink. Upstairs, even Isaac stopped changing the sheets and poked his head through the staircase.

“What?”

“Stiles. His mother died when we were in middle school. I was in the hospital a lot back then ‘cause it was at the same time they diagnosed my epilepsy. Stiles and his dad went to the psychiatric aisle a lot. I remember seeing the sheriff cry. It was weird. And sad.”

She lowered her eyes toward the bubbles in the sink, her face unusually cheerless.

“Oh my God,” Laura whispered. “Do you think Peter knows? Oh my God,” she repeated, suddenly horrified, “I’m never joking about him being crazy ever again. I’m an awful person. That- that poor kid. . .”

Let’s just say that Laura had been team Stiles from that moment and was now sure that Peter was only going to bring trouble to “that poor kid,” as if Stilinski was some helpless kitten that Big Bad Peter was holding hostage.

Derek wouldn’t be so easy to convince. 

***

“So, cool neighborhood, a bit creepy but then again, why am I not surprised?” 

Even echoing from the lift of the building, Stiles’ voice was grating to Derek’s ears. From where he was sitting on the metal staircase, he could see Laura fretting around the flat, hissing to the pups to behave, as if they were expecting some kind of important guest instead of the seventeen-year-old their uncle wanted to screw.  
Derek wasn’t an idiot: the only reason Peter allowed Stiles to meet the pack formally – when he was known to loathe everything formal – was in the hopes that Laura would stop her constant surveillance and let him deflower his jailbait boyfriend in peace. How Laura couldn’t see that, that was beyond Derek.

“Don’t worry, it’s even worse on the inside. Dear God, I think my niece has been baking. Spare yourself and throw whatever she offers out the window.”

“I’m going to murder him,” Laura muttered under her breath, pulling Erica’s hair when she laughed manically.

“Ok, you’re scaring me, what exactly is waiting for me behind these doors?”

Stiles’ voice was getting closer, until it finally stopped, a few feet from the door. Near the kitchen counter where she was rearranging brownies on a plate, Laura was so visibly tense it was ridiculous.

“Nothing much, just Derek, Laura and the two high-schoolers Derek’s been tutoring.”

“Wait, _what_ ?” 

Derek pinched his nose at the same time Laura almost spilled her brownies.

“He didn’t tell him?” She mouthed furiously. “We spent an entire night preparing that story!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Peter said on the other side of the wall, a smile audible in his words. “We’re part of a trouble teens program. Well, my niece and nephew are. I just have to cope with an insufferable teenage boy living under my roof and his bitchy best friend hanging around.”

Erica’s eyes flashing yellow was only the first sign of this evening turning into a train wreck. The second was when Stilinski said: 

“Which teens? Do I know them?”

“I think so. If my memories of boring chitchat with them serves me right, you’re in the same year as Isaac and Erica.”

“ _Erica Reyes_ ? Erica Reyes is behind the door and you tell me _now_ ?”

“Ok, that’s enough,” Laura said decisively.

But as she went to the door – probably to open it with a fake surprised smile – Erica sprung to her feet and gripped her arm, visibly waiting to hear the rest.

“Well. . . I didn’t know this was relevant. Unless. . .”

Two beats.

“Oh, Stiles, really? After Miss Martin, now Erica? Honestly, sweetheart, I can’t keep up with your crushes. . .”

Isaac sent Derek an alarmed look at Erica’s sharp inhale. _Time to end this show_ , Derek thought, getting down the stairs. He wasn’t going to let Peter play with the pups just because he was bored, or annoyed at being chaperone, or whatever made Peter want to hurt other people’s feelings just to take back control. 

“Shut up, you dick. I don’t have a crush. She just. . . kind of became terrifying since the end of summer. Like, she comes to classes in leather miniskirts and pink heels. That’s the kind of thing a guy notices. Oh, and did I mention she kicked Danny’s ass in P.E? Literally kicked him! Who even does that? Danny is the most lovable marshmallow bear on this face of the Earth, anyone who wants to hurt him probably doesn’t even have a heart.”

 _Shit_ , Derek thought, throwing the door open to reveal Stiles' astonished face and Peter’s sly smirk. Too late, Erica was already pushing her way through until she met Stiles’ eyes:

“Fuck you,” she gritted out before disappearing in the hallway – not without elbowing Peter in the guts first.

The silence after her departure was so thick it was almost loud. 

“Hi, Stiles,” Laura finally said with a smile that was more teeth than welcome, “want a brownie?”

***

“So. . . this is awkward,” Stilinski said later once they were all around the table with coffee and brownies.

“No kidding,” Isaac grunted, mirroring Derek’s position – slouched down on his seat, arms resolutely crossed over his chest.

Stiles passed his fingers through his buzz cut, fidgeted with his teaspoon, then jostled his leg, “look, I’m – I’m really sorry. . . about what I said. I swear to God, I didn’t know she was going to be here, and I sure as hell didn’t know you guys could hear us. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay, Stiles, _you_ didn’t know we were listening,” Laura spat, throwing daggers at Peter who didn’t even pretend to be guilty. 

Derek didn’t care much for Peter right now. He was more focused on the cruel little boy who was starting to threaten the stability of his pack.

“Look, I’ll apologize to her in class tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Isaac replied, “she’ll probably punch you.”

“No, she won’t! Even though. . . I could understand if she did,” Laura admitted.

“I think it’s time for you to go home.”

“ _Derek_ !” Laura screeched as the same time as the kid got up, bumping the table in the process.

“No, no, he’s right. Let’s be honest, this is a disaster, no need to pretend otherwise. I’m just going to go, I’m so sorry – again,” beside him, Peter calmly got to his feet, as if he’d just been waiting for that moment all along - and he probably had, the bastard.

“I’m really sorry too,” Laura apologized. “I wished it had gone better, I was looking forward to it. I mean - us, getting to know each other.” Behind her, Isaac turned toward Derek and rolled his eyes. Derek himself wasn’t a big fan of Laura admitting the Stilinski inside their home, in their private space, and treating him as if he were pack. Seriously, what was the next step? Telling him their secret? Peter’s thing or not, this was getting ridiculous.

His uncle showed Stiles to the door but – because there was only one way this wonderful evening could end – the kid started a hushed argument on the entryway and they all had to pretend they couldn’t hear:

“Don’t look so fucking happy, I just ruined everything! Seriously, did you really have to wait until the last second to tell me that two of my classmates were regulars at your house? I could have used a heads-up!”

“Oh, but darling, your ability to make bothersome events deliciously awkward is what I love best about you,” Peter whispered languorously.

“Fuck you,” Stilinski hissed, “and why did you have to bring Lydia up? You know how I get. . .”

“Honestly, I don’t think me mentioning Lydia was what got you all wound up. If anything, it’s probably when you mentioned Erica’s pink heels and miniskirts. . .”

In the kitchen, Laura slapped her hand against her forehead while Isaac did a double-take on the couple, clearly astonished by what he just heard. 

“Oh my god, that’s it, go fuck yourself, and don’t bother coming to my house tonight. Asshole.”

And that was when Stiles Stilinski did the first thing that truly pleased Derek: he slammed their own door in Peter’s face and took off.

***

However, because life was life and because Derek was getting tired of his sister moping in their flat waiting for Erica to come back, he found himself in the mall with Peter the very weekend after their failed tea-party.

“Remind me again what we are doing?”

“You’re escaping Laura and her broken maternal instincts while I’m shopping to find a gift for Stiles.”

That at least made Derek grin a little, “he still isn’t talking to you?”

Peter threw him a side glance before getting back to his window-shopping, “I’m glad the bumps in my love life make you so happy, Derek, your cruelty won’t go unnoticed - but, yes,” he finally admitted with a strain in his voice, “it seems that my underage boyfriend inclines more toward a capricious fifteen-year-old girl. Now help me find a gift.”

“I’m surprised you even bother to do that,” Derek later said when they were perusing through a video game store. “I can’t remember the last time you bought someone a gift that wasn’t full of sarcasm.”

Peter didn’t answer right away; instead he frowned down on the last Halo game as if it were some complicated math problem that was resisting him. “Yes, well, Stiles is going to forgive me eventually, he has to, I’m the only exciting thing happening in his life. But sometime the quickest path to victory requires a show of humility. So instead of waiting another week for him to text me only to start an argument, I’m going to show up with a gift which he will begrudgingly accept and we’ll both pretend that he is doing me a favor. Then I can get in his pants.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman,” Derek mocked bitterly. 

They bought the game finally, two copies and a new console because Peter wanted to try it out himself. They were on their way out of the mall when his uncle stopped in front of a woman clothing store, staring intently at a pair of pale pink heels.

“If you want to make amends to Erica, she’d probably like them,” Derek admitted.

“Hmm, yeah, I wasn’t thinking about Erica,” Peter simply said before entering the store and blinding the girl behind the register with his most dazzling smile. “Excuse me, miss, what is the biggest size you have for these shoes?”

***

“I don’t get it,” Derek said later in the parking lot, once the shoes were bought and delicately put in a black box with a white ribbon, “I thought the whole plan was to make Stilinski forgive you, not piss him off even more.”

Peter threw him an amused glance, “dear Derek, why this sudden concern? I thought you were happy with Stiles giving me the cold shoulder.”

“I am – I just don’t trust that kid,” Derek mumbled while unlocking the Camaro, but as he opened the door, Peter pinned him with an intense stare and a mysterious smile.

“Very good instinct, nephew,” he spoke in a soft voice, resting one arm on the roof of the Camaro, the other lazily keeping the passenger door half-open, “you’re very right not to trust him. He’s the worst thing that could ever happen to our pack.”

The words were like a punch to Derek’s guts. He had to blink twice, just to be sure that Peter wasn’t joking, that he had really just said that, here, on this parking lot in broad day light while they were surrounded by shoppers and soccer moms and running kids. Peter was deadly serious, his piercing blue eyes were set on Derek, assessing his reaction, guessing his next move, his next words; because that’s what Peter always did.

“Do you remember,” his uncle finally said, “when we were in that café and I told you that Stiles wasn’t the kind of wolf we needed right now? I stand by my words, if we turned Stiles, he would destroy us before the next full moon.”

Did Peter even realize what those threats did to Derek? He had lost everything – his pack – once, he wouldn’t survive it another time. Didn’t he realize that saying that was like stabbing Derek in the chest? That the thought alone was excruciating? But of course he did. . . It was Peter after all. 

“The thing is, Stiles already has a pack,” Peter kept on, never letting his eyes stray from Derek’s, “his father and his best friend. He’s utterly loyal to them and would probably take Argent’s gun and hunt us down himself if I told him what danger we were to his family. He’s too smart, too curious, has no respect for hierarchy or authority whatsoever, he reeks of disobedience and isn’t even aware of half the things he could do if someone pushed the right buttons. That’s why you don’t like him, because your instinct tells you that he is dangerous to our pack, and he is.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Derek finally asked, his heart beating in his throat.

Peter leaned forward and articulated, “because I don’t want to turn him, Derek. He would become Omega before Laura even gets her teeth out of him. He’s of no use to us as a werewolf, but think about it: loyal to humans, rebellious, smart, capable, and disgustingly selfless.” One pointed look and a smile: “He would make a fine hunter; don’t you think?”

“What? That’s your plan? Are you mad?”

“Quite the opposite, nephew, all we need is one more wolf and we’ll have a sufficient pack. Next step: pack humans. Your mother’s mistake was to think we were in charge of protecting them when _they_ should be protecting _us_. No more helpless humans,” Peter said resolutely, “Stiles could be the first of a new generation, hunters trained by the pack to work along us. The Argents would never see it coming.”

“That’s insane,” Derek breathed out, “it’s never going to work. How- how do you even plan to make it happen?”

“You’ll see in due time. Remember, Derek, the world belongs to the bold,” his smile became predatory and he let his eyes flash gold, “and I’m nothing but.”

***

By some unknown miracle, Stilinski forgave Peter and Erica came back to the flat. They didn’t try any more meetings between Stiles and the pack, and Laura didn’t release Derek from his chaperon duty.

Derek hadn’t said a word about Peter’s mad plan to turn humans into pack hunters. He knew Laura would only freak out and order Peter to stay away from Stiles, and that would only make Peter do something stupid: like tell him everything about how werewolves were roaming around Beacon Hills. With Erica still fuming, it was best to just let things cool off before adding another layer of disaster.

And so here was Derek; in the Camaro, parked in front of Stiles’ house, music blasting through the speakers in order not to hear the heavy make out session happening in the kid’s room. He was just about to text Peter and tell him that they were fucking leaving, when his cell phone went on – a panicked call from Laura:

“I don’t know where Isaac is! Erica said he got a call from his father and then he slipped out of school, I-I- I lost track of his scent, it started raining and I couldn’t smell him and he turned his phone off and. . .”

“Laura, calm down,” Derek interrupted her breathless babbling, “Did you check his house?”

“Yes, and they aren’t there!”

“Ok, stay calm, I’ll get Peter and you get Erica, we’ll split up and search the whole town if we have to, alright?”

“Yeah – yeah, ok.”

Derek hang up, anxiety pooling in his stomach, before getting out of the car and climbing Stiles’ window. He had to grit his teeth from the spectacle in front of him. In the messy teenage bedroom, among papers, books, carelessly thrown clothes and lacrosse gear, Peter and his date were sloppily kissing on the bed, his uncle draped over Stilinski like a blanket, his arms caging each side of the boy’s head.

A mean sort of pleasure took over him when he knocked loudly on the window, making both of them jump. Taking sight of him, Peter’s expression went from surprised to annoyed. Still, he got up, making the kid swear and put a pillow on his lap – no doubt to hide the boner Derek already had the misfortune to see – and went to open the window.

“What?”

“Isaac, it’s an emergency.”

His uncle breathed heavily through his nose, clearly exasperated.

“His father?”

“Yeah, Laura needs everyone.”

A deep sigh, then to Stiles, “gotta go, love. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Dude, my father’s shift ends in thirty minutes. . .”

“Then I’ll come by your window,” Peter only replied while searching for his leather jacket in the general mess of the room.

That was when Derek had the most peculiar vision of Stiles Stilinski he ever had. His eyes only swept over the kid sprawled on the bed – dark buzz cut, pouty mouth, regular black tee, sweatpants – but suddenly; pale pink heels. A bright splash of color on the navy blue sheets and the grey comforter. The sight was so absurd that Derek stared blankly, frozen in place and clearly blocking Peter’s exit. 

Despite being drawn to the shoes as if they were a black hole, he could pinpoint the exact moment Stilinski noticed his eyes on him; his breath suddenly quickened, his heartbeat skyrocketed and the muscles of his feet suddenly clenched, making the veins bulge above the top of his pumps.  
Peter cleared his throat, and Derek blinked as if coming out of a trance. On the bed, Stiles scrambled and threw the pillow that was previously on his lap on his feet – but it only bounced and fell on the floor with a pitiful _thump_ , drawing Derek’s attention to the heels once again.

“Oh my god, get out!” Stiles finally squeaked, so red he seemed to be on the verge of exploding.

In the corner, Peter chuckled, “let’s go, Derek, I think you’ve embarrassed Stiles enough for tonight.”

“For a lifetime, you mean!” he screamed as they went down the side of his house. 

_Those two are so fucked-up_ , Derek thought once he was safely behind the wheel of his Camaro, Peter speaking to Laura on the phone beside him. Then: _How the fuck am I going to unsee that?_

***

They found Isaac and his father in the cemetery: M. Lahey shit-faced and slumped against his wife’s grave, Isaac standing awkwardly in front of him, pissed off but still human. 

Isaac saw them approaching but stopped them from coming closer.

“Look, I don’t care about that bullshit. I’m not coming home, and don’t drag mom into this ‘cause she’s probably rolling in her grave after all you did to me.”

“You don’t get it,” M. Lahey slurred, “I tried to toughen you up, we live in a fucked up world, no one’s goin’ to do you any favor, you ‘ve to be able to survive out there, that’s what I wanted to do . . .”

Isaac’s jaw visibly clenched but he didn’t move an inch and didn’t lose his temper, “yeah well, you did a shitty job. And don’t fucking pretend you did it for me. Nothing you did was ever for me. It was all for you, the beatings, the pool, the. . . _the fridge_ , that was you taking your nerves out on me. You didn’t accomplish anything with it.”

“Seems like I did a good job, look at you. Standing up to your old man. You finally grew some balls.”

Isaac’s eyes briefly flashed gold and Derek moved forward but was stopped by Peter’s arm. His uncle was examining the scene playing out in front of them carefully. The kid took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes again, they were perfectly human.

“You didn’t do that. Somebody else did,” and with that, he looked straight at Derek.

Derek hadn’t feel pride any time in the last six years but right here, right now, it was pretty damn close. He was impressed by Isaac’s self control and maturity, because he sure as hell wanted to bash M. Lahey’s head against the stone. Derek was proud to call that strong and caring kid part of his pack and he told him exactly that later, once they had dumped M. Lahey’s drunken ass at his house and had reassured Laura.

“Thanks,” Isaac muttered, “you guys are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Derek pressed the kid’s shoulder, “come on, let’s get you home.”

“One second,” Peter interrupted. “Derek, would you be so kind and go tell Stiles that I won’t be able to make it tonight, my phone’s battery is dead and I want to have a chat with Isaac.”

Peter’s calm but determined expression made Derek frown. Isaac himself didn’t seem very at ease.

“A chat about what?”

“That,” his uncle smiled, “is none of your concerns. I’ll bring him back to the flat; you just go to Stiles’ house.”

Derek was hesitant. His uncle had been relatively calm for the last month – as much as Derek hated to admit it, his relationship with Stilinski was actually helpful – but Peter’s sudden need to be alone with Isaac was quite strange. Especially with what they had just witnessed in the cemetery.  
Finally, and after a raised eyebrow from Peter, Derek concluded that he couldn’t deny his uncle’s request; they were a pack and they would only grow stronger if they started to act like one.

“Sure,” he said. “Want the Camaro?”

“No, I think a little walk will do us good, right Isaac?”

“I guess,” the teen shrugged, sending a confused glance in Derek’s direction. 

“I’ll meet you at the flat then.”

Driving to the Stilinski house, Derek felt suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. Every single one of his muscle had been tense since Laura’s phone call, and now that he was finally relaxed, he wanted nothing more than to just fall on his bed and sleep for a week.

He couldn’t believe how much had changed since the beginning of the summer. The first of June, Laura and him were still working on the Bennett’s farm, traumatized, hurt, without any future. And here they were now: October coloring the trees red and yellow, with a pack of five, and a peace-treaty with the Argents. A part of Derek was terrified of what it meant, to have a family again; something that could be ripped apart from him in the blink of an eye. But the rest of him – the part that secretly smiled whenever he heard Erica and Isaac bickering inside the flat, the part that heard the comforting breath of Laura and Peter sleeping in the rooms next to his – was filled with hope. Bursting, unrestrained hope for a brighter future, where the Hale would once again be the most important pack of California, known and respected throughout the country. The thought alone made Derek’s heart beat faster. 

He just had one problem left. 

Once parked in front of the sheriff’s house, Derek didn’t get out of the car immediately. Instead, he stayed there a long time, gripping the wheel, thinking. After what felt like an hour compressed in a handful of seconds, he finally knew what he had to do. 

Stiles’ window was open despite the crisp night air, and the lack of surprise when Derek knocked made him consider how many times Peter had sneaked out behind his back late at night to visit the kid. Stiles, however, did jump when he saw it wasn’t Peter outside.

“Jesus fuck,” he breathed out, getting up from his chair and then stopping a few feet from Derek, frowning: “What happened? Where is Peter?”

Derek didn’t answer right away. He slipped inside and stood without a word, trying to do what he should have done since the very first day; he looked at Stiles with Peter’s eyes.

He was really an inconspicuous kid; tall and gangly, the sinewy muscles running under his pale skin were quite weak, the constant fidgeting of his arms and legs showed a complete lack of coordination, his face was boyish and almost feminine in the curve of his lips or the perk of his nose, and his doe eyes wouldn’t intimidate a kitten. 

“Hello? Earth to Derek Hale? You're kind of freaking me out with all the staring and brooding . . .”

Sarcasm, always sarcasm. A stupid and fruitless defense mechanism, all it did was anger enemies twice Stiles’ size. Like Derek. 

He took one step forward and almost in synch, Stiles took one step back.

“Ok, what’s happening?” the kid faked laugh. 

His hand twitched, grasping the air for one brief second and Derek understood why once he saw the metal baseball bat resting against the wall, right behind Stiles. Derek wasn’t worried; he knew he could get to Stiles before the kid managed to get to the bat. His heart was a rapid staccato in Derek’s ears and his eyes were slowly turning from just nervous to terrified. He smelled like prey – all scared humans did – but he especially reeked of fear. Right until . . .

“Goodnight, kiddo, don’t stay up to late!” The sheriff’s voice echoed from downstairs.

The moment Derek turned his face toward the door, Stiles had grabbed the bat and was awkwardly brandishing it, “alright, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, dude, but you gotta leave, _right fucking now_.”

It was like something had snapped. Stiles wasn’t more threatening now than he had been two seconds ago - he still smelled like prey - but Derek sure as hell knew what Peter had seen in him all this time. Stiles’ eyes were dead set on Derek’s, holding his gaze with a defiant tilt in his chin, all his teenage muscles tensed. The kid was brave. Stupidly brave. Right now, Derek could see him, maybe two or three years from now, trained and prepared, with a better pose, more strength, bigger weapons, but the very same look on his face. He would really make quite the hunter, Derek admitted bitterly.

“Why are you dating him?” Derek finally asked.

“What?”

Stiles looked at him with bulging eyes, face stricken with disbelief at the unexpected question.

“You could date someone your own age, or someone older but without all of Peter’s crazy. I’m sure half the population at the Jungle would be ok with you wearing what you want,” he added, glancing at the pink heels that were showing under the bed, where Stiles must have thrown them hastily after their departure. “So why him? Why Peter?”

Stiles opened than closed his mouth, lowering the bat. 

“What the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you? You barge into my room in the middle of the night, freak the _living life_ out of me and then ask questions about my love life? Does insanity run in your family or something?”

“Just answer the question.”

Both Derek and Stiles were surprised to hear the quiver in his voice, breaking a little at the end, breathless. Derek didn’t have time to curse internally because Stiles said something completely unexpected.

“I’m not going to hurt him.”

“Wha- “

“Peter!” Stiles said, throwing his bat around with a frustrated look on his face, as if Derek was an infuriating toddler. “I know that’s what this is all about, and I get that you are worried for your uncle but . . .” There, he let out a heavy sigh and his arms fell to his sides, the bat hanging loose from his fingers. “Look, I get it. I know what you are afraid of, and you have every right to be but . . .”

“You don’t know anything,” Derek growled, not liking how the tables were being turned. 

Stiles sent him a glance, between annoyed and pitiful, and just for that Derek wanted to rip his throat out.

“Dude, I- “

“Don’t _dude_ me,” he snapped.

“Alright, alright,” Stiles apologized hastily, “but, _Derek_ ,” – it was weird, hearing his name come out of Stiles lips; it might have been the first time he had pronounced it without the Hale right after – “some guy just appears out of nowhere in a house that has been abandoned for almost a decade and claim that it’s his, you think I would go out on a date with him without at least searching him before? My dad is the sheriff for fuck’s sake . . . and . . .”

He scratched his buzz cut and licked his lips nervously before continuing, “I know about . . . the fire. And the day-care facility. I get it, your family has gone through hell and back and you’re worried that I will get Peter in trouble with my dad or . . . or break his heart or whatever, but I’m not going to. I can swear it to you, Derek, I’m not going to hurt him.”

While saying this, he looked straight into Derek’s eyes and let out a sad little chuckle, “if anything, he’s probably going to break mine,” he whispered, this time averting his gaze.

“Then why are you dating him?” Derek asked again, more pressingly this time.

Stiles took some time to answer. He played with the bat while thinking, tapping it repeatedly against his thigh, frowning not like he didn’t know what to answer, but like he already knew why and wasn’t sure how to phrase it for Derek’s sake.

“Because he is the most interesting thing that ever happened to this town.”

Derek could understand that. 

He had taken his uncle’s presence in Beacon Hills granted for so long that it was only when he started dating Kate Argent – when he wanted to escape too – that he had started to wonder why Peter never left for long, even though he was clearly too big for a small dusty Californian town. Peter belonged to a big city, bustling with energy, filled with always more things to discover, attack, and conquer. 

Derek knew he was smart, once he had ditched sports after Paige’s death he had nothing else to distract him from his classes and he had ended up graduating on the top ten of his year. Before the fire, Laura herself was in law school out of Beacon Hills, on her way to become a kick-ass lawyer. Even at her age, Cora had shown a fierce interest in the arts, foreshadowing what could have been a successful career later, and that was only the close family. The Hales were more often than not smart.  
But Peter was another kind of smart. He only needed one look at someone to know what they wanted, what they feared and what could break them. When he was in school, he would cut most of his classes going God knew where and he still graduated valedictorian. Not because he was a genius, or because he worked on his own, but because he always knew exactly what his teachers wanted to hear or what he needed to put in his essays to have the best grade. His mother always complained that even the teachers that hated everyone tolerated Peter.

“And . . . because when he looks at me, he makes me feel like _I’m_ the most interesting thing that happened to Beacon Hills.”

This time, it was Derek’s turn to avert his eyes. The raw emotion on Stiles’ face was too much to look at. As if witnessing it would be even more intruding than any of his questions. An awkward silence stretched between them, tense and expectant. 

“Look,” Stiles finally said, “can we call a truce? Because unless Peter wakes up tomorrow and decides that I’m not worth his time, the two of us are probably going to see each other kind of regularly. And I don’t know about you but I’m tired of you glaring at me, and – _See_! Exactly that glare! Anyway, can we act like fucking grownups?”

Derek gritted his teeth at the tone but, deep down, he could already feel the fences that he had internally built around Stiles melt like snow in the sunlight. The kid was still fucking annoying but he didn’t seem threatening or careless anymore. He was actually so serious than Derek wondered if Peter knew how deeply the Sheriff’s son felt for him. He probably did. But then again, it would be just like Peter to start seducing someone and then be oblivious to how far it went. His uncle was just as perceptive as he was selfish. 

And just for a second, Derek pitied Stiles. He had been so focused on how Stiles could hurt the pack that he hadn’t thought once about how the pack could hurt the seventeen-year-old that had the misfortune to fall for Peter. 

“So . . . is that a restrained yes or a silent death threat?”

“Alright”, Derek said grumpily.

Stiles seemed astonished for a moment before grinning, “always knew we’d end up being BFFs”.

“Don’t push your luck,” Derek hissed, making his way to the window again. 

“What? That’s it? You’re leaving? Just like that? Dude!”

“Don’t dude me!” Derek snapped turning his head so fast that Stiles took a step back. Then, remembering their “truce,” he took it upon himself to be civil. 

“Good night.”

“Uhh . . . ‘Night. I guess.”

“Close the window behind me,” Derek let out before jumping down and jogging to his car. He waited to be sure that Stiles followed his instructions before going in. 

The ride back was divided between Derek remembering Stiles’ fierce eyes and trying to forget how vulnerable he had look, talking about Peter. Derek didn’t remember the pack being so much drama before the fire.  
He wondered if Talia would have liked Stiles.  
He knew Cora would have.

Going back inside the flat to the sound of Erica screaming at Isaac didn’t mend Derek’s broken heart – nothing would – but it made the ache less agonizing. 

“What’s going on?”

“Isaac is _drunk_!” Erica shrieked her cheeks red with indignation. “Why the fuck didn’t I know that something could get us drunk?”

“Because you’re both seventeen,” Laura stated, unimpressed from where she was urging Isaac to drink glasses of water after glasses of water.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked softly, joining them in the kitchen area.

“I’m amazing!” Isaac exclaimed, flushed and with sparkling eyes. God, he was reeking of wolfsbane. “Peter and I burned a fridge!”

“What?”

Even Laura startled at that. Peter chose that moment to sneak beside them.

“It’s inconsequential. Derek, come with me upstairs, would you?”

Derek glanced suspiciously at Peter and then at Isaac, but ended up following his uncle to the first floor anyway.

“What exactly did you do with Isaac?”

“Nothing, I merely suggested to assassinate his father if he wished so. How did it go with Stiles?”

It said a lot about their relationship that Derek didn’t comment Peter’s answer. The thought had crossed Derek’s mind already, Laura’s too when Isaac had half hinted at the abuses he had endured under his father’s care. If anything, it showed that Peter was starting to actually care about Isaac. Nothing better expressed their uncle’s affection than offers of cold-blooded murder.

“It was okay.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“That is at the same time less and more than what I expected. Care to develop?”

Derek was safe from replying by Erica trashing the kitchen to find the wolfsbane. 

“No way that Isaac is the only one getting drunk tonight, I want to end up _smashed_!”

***

The truce between Stiles and Derek ended up being much easier than expected, mostly because Erica had come home from school one day and had asked them to turn someone. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

Laura was dumbfounded, so were everyone else, except Peter who seemed more interested in Erica than he had ever been until now.

“Who do you want to turn?” Isaac asked, scrunching up his nose. “Please, not Stiles.”

“We are not turning Stiles,” Laura articulated slowly, throwing a firm glance at Peter.

Their uncle only smiled and Derek fidgeted, uncomfortable at the reminder that he still hadn’t told Laura about Peter’s plan for the kid. 

“His name is Vernon Boyd. We were friends before . . . before. And he knows that something is not right since school started. Isaac and I kept the secret but he’s avoiding us now . . . He doesn’t like that we’re hiding something from him.”

Laura and Derek exchanged a look. 

“It’s not that simple, sweetie,” she started cautiously. “Do you think he would accept it? What about his family? His friends?”

“I’m not a fucking child,” Erica spat so violently that Isaac jumped to intervene:

“We are his only friends. His family manages the ice rink and they don’t exactly care about what he does as long as he has good grades and is on time to work there. He would say yes. I know he would.”

Laura bit her lower lip, “I don’t know . . . I’m not sure about this . . .”

And so, Erica did the only thing that would insure her victory: she turned toward Peter. 

“You said we needed one more wolf, right?”

His smile was so predatory he could have just wolfed out right there.

“Right.” 

And so they were six.

**To be continued**


	3. Stiles

Turning Vernon Boyd – or Boyd as he preferred to be called – might just have been the best thing to ever happen to their pack.

The kid – who hardly looked like a kid with his tall and bulky frame – was exactly what they had lacked all this time: calm. The Stiles-drama, Peter’s craziness, their revenge plan against the Argents, nothing could ruffle his feathers and he had caught up on the pack’s history without so much as a blink. More yet, it seemed that Boyd could click with every member of the pack: he was respectful toward Laura, soothing with Erica, snarky with Isaac, unimpressed with Derek and, most of all, completely silent with Peter. In two days, he had cracked the Peter Theorem: never raises to Peter’s bait and he will leave you alone.  
  
Boyd fit perfectly into their dynamics and, with him, Peter finally got what he wanted from the start: a pack ready to be trained. From that point, they would go three times a week into the woods and start teaching the pups how to fight. It was hard, on all of them, mostly because neither one of the Hales ever had to teach someone what they had been doing since birth. Derek had basically been raised struggling against Laura, avoiding Cora’s teeth and trying to sneak on his mom to bite her. Fighting was natural component of being a werewolf: it was through fighting that one learned their rank in the pack, the younger one getting their asses handed to them by the older ones, etc. But the pups didn’t know that.  
  
Erica had the anger to fight, that was for sure, but it was also one of her weaknesses: she was easily pissed off and unfocused, and she wanted so badly to beat the boys that she often went head first, making it easy to put her down. Boyd was more attentive and he had brute strength, but he was completely blind to any foul play and one or two dirty moves were usually enough to put him on his back.  
  
Things were… trickier with Isaac. He didn’t take violence well, flinching before the fight even started, and Laura and Derek were just as hesitant to hit him. Peter had to get personally in charge of his training since the two of them were “acting like wusses” (Erica’s word but Peter had nodded approvingly). Still, Isaac always tried to wriggle his way out of the training sessions and he would sulk long after any bruises had faded away.  
Laura was visibly heart-broken but Derek knew that Peter was right: letting Isaac unable to protect himself would just disservice him in the end. They still had no news of Kate or Gerard but Laura had put Peter in touch with a few other packs across the country and they were trying to know if maybe the both of them weren’t in France. The danger might be invisible yet, but it didn’t mean that it wasn’t there.  
  
Speaking of her, Laura was glowing. Literally glowing. Nothing seemed to get her down and from the moment she woke up to when she went to sleep, her eyes were bright and her smile easy. Now that she had five wolves with her, she looked more like an Alpha than ever.  
  
She looked like their mother.  
  
Sometimes, Derek would wake up and hear her humming Talia’s favorite songs in the kitchen while making breakfast. He would often just sit on the stairs, before Isaac or Peter were awake, and look at her. He had never noticed how sad his sister had been – physically sad, with hollow cheeks and thin lips and a wrinkled brow – until she wasn’t anymore. She looked her age again, a blooming young woman of twenty-seven, and her plaided shirts and jeans didn’t hang around her frame anymore. With her navy blue eyes and long shiny dark hair, Derek knew he wasn’t the only one surprised by his sister’s happiness: he had witnessed Peter stopping in his tracks one day, looking at her as if stunned.  
With her new pack, Laura could finally become what she had always been meant to be: an Alpha. The thought alone filled Derek with warmth.  
  
And Vernon’s arrival wasn’t the only good thing to their pack lately: the Hales and acquainted were slowly getting used to Stiles orbiting on the edges of their lives.  
  
The sheriff’s son had become less of a nuisance and more a constant buzz at the corner of Derek’s mind: Laura’s new euphoria had made her more lenient to Peter’s whims and Derek was gradually released from his chaperon duties. His uncle, free to toy with the boy to his heart’s content, was spending more time on his shenanigans with Stiles and was thus too busy to piss off everyone inside the flat, something everyone was grateful for. Peter and Stiles were, surprisingly enough, keeping each other in check: Peter was always with the kid lately, meaning that he was keeping an eye on Allison Argent as well, and since Stiles had inherited some integrity from his father, it prevented their uncle from doing anything too crazy like assaulting civilians on his way to Starbucks.  
  
It also meant that Derek didn’t have to interact with the kid as much as before which was perfect. Since their… conversation, Derek was uncomfortable just thinking about him. It still seemed foreign, how that seventeen year old had barged into their life and cut himself such a large part of it: he was not only Peter’s pet, he was also a possible mad project for the future, he was why Erica seemed ready to bust a blood vessel every time Peter mentioned him, he was their link to the Argent girl, he was the reason they all avoided the sheriff so carefully… When Derek thought about it too much, he started to wonder if Stiles really was pulled toward them or if they were the ones gravitating around his now not-so normal life.  
  
It was a miracle that Stiles was yet ignorant of their secret, the pups certainly didn’t make it easy. More than once, Isaac had told them about Erica slamming him into lockers for one reason or another, and when Laura had tried confronting her, the blonde had only shrugged. Hopefully Boyd would manage her temper better than them.  
  
But again, Derek had more pressing things on his mind: in a blink, October had turned into November and it was almost time for Thanksgiving. Laura and Derek had stopped celebrating Thanksgiving for years. It was only when they had arrived at the Bennett’s’ farm that they had started getting in touch with their traditions again, but even there, surrounded by the Bennett wolves and their pack, it wasn’t the same.  
  
Thanksgiving was their father’s favorite holiday. Derek’s most prominent memory of his father would always be of him, sitting in his leather armchair in the living room, reading his newspaper quietly, as if unaware of the general chaos happening around him in the house. His second best memory would be of his father, a dark apron tied around his waist, setting out the candles on the table for Thanksgiving dinner. Clarence had never been a man of many words but he could babble endlessly about why traditions were cement to any family and how Thanksgiving was the most important time of the year. The Hale pack was big, almost twenty members, but their house was always on the verge of falling under the weight of the fifty or so guests invited for Thanksgiving each year.  
Thanksgiving was also the only day when Derek was actually glad their house had burnt down with its occupants: the thought of the Hale home empty and hollow for Thanksgiving was enough to make him retch.  
  
But now, they were a pack once more and they had all silently agreed to spend Thanksgiving as such. Boyd and Erica had told their parents they would spend Thanksgiving at Isaac’s place (“I pushed the _my friend has lost his mother and is alone with his father he hates_ button”), Laura was fussing all over the flat to make it more festive (“Sure, Peter, you can skip decorating the flat, I’ll just order you to wear a Santa’s hat for Christmas, no big deal”) while Derek was in charge of the grocery shopping (“And remember, we’re feeding six wolves including three teenage pups, so you have my permission to wolf out on anyone who tries to take the last turkey, ok ?”). It didn’t feel like home, there wasn’t a fireplace to expose Cora’s clumsy drawings, their father wasn’t in the kitchen preparing his twenty-course dinner and there weren’t any of Derek’s cousins running all over the place, butting in people’s legs. But it wasn’t so bad: the flat was full of colorful garlands, Laura and Isaac (and even Peter when he was home) were non-stop baking and Erica and Boyd were half-bickering, half-dancing while preparing the Thanksgiving playlist. It was close enough to what they used to have.  
At the end of each day on Thanksgiving week, they would all end up sprawled on the living room space, exhausted and full of Isaac’s mother's secret-recipe gingerbread cookies.  
  
“So,” Laura said one night, almost drowsing where she was pressed against Derek on a chair, “everything is almost ready for tomorrow. We have enough food to make the fridge burst, so I think we’re good. I want everyone home for five p.m. And I don’t want any fucking surprise,” she insisted, glaring at Peter who was lying eyes closed on one of the couches. “So if Stiles is coming, I need to know right now.”  
  
“He isn’t,” he replied lazily, without opening his eyes. “He’s grounded for the week.”  
  
On the other couch, Erica snorted: “No wonder, he forgot to hand in a paper with Harris. With Harris ! How fucking stupid does he have to be to forget an essay due with him ? He’s Satan and Hitler’s long lost child.”  
  
Isaac snickered and Peter smiled indolently.  
  
“Well, to Stiles’ defense, he was busy learning something much more useful.”  
  
“Like what? Picking locks and terrorizing his neighbors ?” Derek scorned.  
  
“How to give a proper blowjob.”  
  
It all happened in a flash: Derek barely had time to comprehend Peter’s words and be disgusted; Erica was already leaping to her feet, barreling on Peter with a snarl, claws out. And with lightening speed, his uncle kicked her in the stomach, sending her flying to the other side of the flat where she crashed on the wall.  
  
“My, my, still not over that crush on Stiles, are we ?” Peter gloated, still sitting on the couch with a smirk.  
  
Erica roared, her eyes golden, and Laura jumped between the two while Derek appeased Boyd and Isaac: the boys were glancing back and forth between Erica and Peter, unsure on who to help and who to restrain.  
  
“Alright, that’s _enough_ ! Peter, no one needs to hear about your sex-life. And Erica,” she turned toward the blonde who was still crouched against the wall like a snake ready to bite, “you have to calm down. You can’t keep on losing control like that every time you’re upset.”  
  
“I’m not fucking upset,” she hissed through her teeth before storming out.  
  
“Go after her, try to calm her down,” Derek said to the boys, who scurried after her.  
  
Laura turned furiously to Peter, who properly ignored her.  
  
“Are you happy ? You just had to do that, didn’t you ?”  
  
“Come on, sweetie, you can’t possibly blame me for her tantrums. Though I agree with you, it’s more than time for dear Erica to learn how to behave. Can’t have the neighbors think she’s rabid.”  
  
Derek winced when he saw Laura’s expression darken: she didn’t wolf out, her eyes remained perfectly blue and her nails perfectly human, but it would have taken a blind man not to see she was positively seething.  
  
“You know what, Peter ?” she gritted slowly, “I don’t know why I expected more from you, or how I could have possibly thought you would behave today.”  
  
The composed voice with which she spoke revealed that these weren’t words thrown lightly during a fight, she had mulled this over, probably for quite some time, and was only letting it out now. Peter must have realized it too because his eyes narrowed and he stood straighter on the couch:  
  
“Now, now, Laura, is there something you wish to talk about ?”  
  
The warning was so audible in his tone, Derek couldn’t even hope to avoid this fight. Goddamn it.  
  
“It’s a shame, you know” she said icily, looking him straight in the eyes, “you would make a brilliant alpha, with your skills and how easily you read people. But I guess you’re just too fucking selfish to care about someone that’s not yourself. Doesn’t matter who you hurt as long as you have your fun, right?”  
  
Peter got to his feet and even though he was one inch smaller than Derek and Laura, he towered over them, empowered by his silent rage:  
  
“Then it’s good that _you_ are the Alpha.”  
  
It sounded like a compliment but he spat it out like a threat. For one second, the tension was so dense Derek thought they would either fight, or choke on it. As it happened, Peter merely took his jacket and left.  
  
He was not coming back for Thanksgiving, Derek realized, hearing the metal door rattle behind his uncle.

* * *

 It was four p.m, they had one hour to find Peter and try to fix this mess.

Derek surprised himself with how much he actually wanted this night to go well. Maybe it was Laura’s efforts finally catching up with him, or maybe it was the vivid sense that this was their first Thanksgiving in Beacon Hills since the fire, but he felt the urgency of their mission as Boyd and he searched through the town for Peter.

It was doomed of course, Boyd knew it, and Derek as well even if he refused to admit it. Trying to find Peter when he didn’t want to be found would be close to a miracle and, somehow, he felt like he had already exhausted his miracle-card when Erica had grudgingly accepted to come back to the flat.

Soon, he would have to go back there too, tail between his legs, and present his failure to Laura. She wouldn’t blame him of course, she would blame herself, for speaking too harshly to Peter, and that would be even worse. Derek could take anything for his pack – he deserved it – but just thinking about Laura’s dejected face at dinner made him frustrated enough to kill something.

They weren’t going to find him on time. Peter probably wasn’t in Beacon Hills anymore. He had an entire night to take his own car and disappear on the other side of the state. This was hopeless.

“Derek,” Boyd said suddenly, jerking his head toward a diner on their left.

Derek stopped in his tracks like a bloodhound, his eyes desperately scanning the inside of the restaurant through the glass, but there was no Peter in sight. Just the waitresses behind the counter, a few people sitting and a teenager waiting for… Stiles.

Behind the register, knocking down a jar of straws under the panicked look of a waitress, was probably the only person in town who knew where Peter was. Maybe he had another miracle coming, after all.

Pushing the glass door, Derek ignored the chirp of the waitress welcoming him and grabbed Stiles by the shoulder.

“Holy shit !” Stilinski exclaimed, brandishing a straw like a sword, his eyes growing wide and terrified for a second, and then blinking. “Huh, dude ? Everything… okay ?”

“Did you see Peter ?”

“What ? No,” he frowned and jerked his arm, making Derek let go of him reluctantly. Stiles threw a quick glance at Boyd before saying: “I’m actually grounded so I haven’t seen him for a while, plus we had a fight. My dad has a shift so I’m escaping the house and bringing burgers to Scott’s. Why ? What is it ?”

“Damn it,” Derek whispered.

“What do we do ?” Boyd asked quietly.

Derek pondered for a second before being struck by an idea.

“Give me your phone,” he ordered Stiles in a growl.

The roll of eyes he received told him that he wasn’t as scary as he would like but the kid gave him his phone diligently.

“Just don’t break it with those big bear paws of yours. My dad is already pissed at me, he won’t buy me another just because I ask nicely. So… Boyd ? Didn’t know you were a friend of the Hales.”

Derek ignored Stiles’ babble and Boyd’s answer and focused instead on the phone. Indeed, they had a fight, since the last message sent to Peter two days ago said: _Don’t fucking talk to me ever again._

But since he was starting to be acquainted with the “hot and cold” relationship between Stiles and Peter, he typed quickly:

_Where are you ?_

The phone buzzed almost instantly and a dark amusement took over Derek:

_Not far from BH. Why ?_

So they were really wasting their time searching the town for Peter. He thought about what Stiles had said before and typed:

_My dad’s on a shift. Escaped the house, I’m at the diner near the post office, wanna meet ?_

Again, it only took a blink before the response came. Peter really was hung up on Stiles.

_Be there in twenty._

Pleased, he gave the phone back to Stiles who skipped through it quickly before groaning:

“Dude ! I just told you we had a fight ! Now he’s going to think he can do whatever he wants !”

“If that can make you feel better, we’re going to drag him to the Thanksgiving dinner he’s trying to avoid.”

That actually seemed to catch Stiles’ attention. He scrunched up his nose like a ferret:

“How bad does he want to avoid it ?”

“He went out of town just to make sure we wouldn’t find him,” Derek deadpanned, arching an eyebrow at Stiles’ wicked smile.

“I can make that asshole come here in five minutes, if you want.”

Boyd looked down at his watch: “That would be great, actually.”

Stiles typed furiously on his phone, and judging by the pink haze on his cheeks and the pounding of his heartbeat, Derek really didn’t want to know what kind of motivation he was giving Peter. It really was a first: Stiles and Derek working together against Peter. Derek could actually get used to it.

And indeed, five minutes later Peter was pushing the door of the diner. Once he spotted the trio, his face became positively murderous. Stiles, on the other hand, pranced up to him and whispered viciously to his ear:

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

He then left with a wave, crushing his greasy paper bag against his chest and tripping to the exit twice.

Then, there was only Peter, Derek, Boyd and the chirpy waitress left.

“Do you wanna eat here or take away ?”

Peter seemed to consider ripping out her throat, and everybody else’s, before sighing dramatically: “Well since I’m here, I might as well have a chocolate milk-shake.”

“Coming right away !”

The three of them sat in a decrepit booth and Boyd pretended to fade in the background while Derek and Peter entered a glaring contest.

“You done pouting ?”

“Oh right, because using Stiles’ phone to lure me here was a perfect show of maturity,” Peter sneered.

“I wouldn’t have had to do that if you just answered your damn phone. You know what tonight means to Laura.”

“Trust me, Der-bear, I know. Which is precisely why I was taking a little road-trip.”

“Do you really have to be so petty ?” Derek snapped. “Alright, Laura crossed the line, but so do you _all the freaking time_. You’re gonna make her pay what she forgave you a hundred times ? She lets you have Stiles, she helps you with your revenge plans, she’s turning teenagers for you. And you feel so entitled to all this that you never stop and think about what it means for her.”

He had to stop his diatribe when the waitress came back and physically restrain himself from showing his fangs, right there in the middle of the diner. Once she left, he continued, more contained:

“You can’t keep on toying with Erica like that. Or with any of them for what matters. They are not soldiers and they are not an army, Peter. They are pack. They are family. And if you keep pushing, and pushing, they’ll leave. And they’ll leave when we need them the most. You think we can take the Argents all by ourselves ? Just the three of us ? They’ll just put the last of the Hales to the ground and there will be no one left to make this right.”

“Leave and become Omegas ?” Peter sniffled derisively, looking at Boyd as if daring him to do so.

Derek saved the boy from his uncle's bullying by clarifying: “Leave when we’re surrounded by hunters with Laura bleeding, me already dead and you injured.”

Peter’s expression turned sour and Derek knew he’d made his point. A pack needed his members to actively want to stay in order to be strong. No Alpha, how powerful they might be, could hope to lead wolves who didn’t acknowledge their authority. It didn’t matter if the pups were scared of Peter or Derek, or if they were fond of Laura. If they wanted out, even while staying, they would all be as good as dead. And Peter already knew that. Every born wolf knew that in the deep of their marrow.

Derek didn’t press Peter, even though a “So, ready to be an adult ?” was on the tip of his tongue. Arguing with his uncle was always tricky: don’t talk enough, and he wouldn’t listen, but talk too much, and he would leave just because you hurt his pride.

Eventually, Peter just took his milk-shake and slurped it down: “I won’t eat anything at that childish attempt of a dinner. One of the she-wolves probably poisoned my food.”

Neither Boyd, nor Derek pointed out that most of what would be on the table had been made by Peter himself. They just nodded and exited the diner.

“We might actually make it there one time,” Boyd noted.

“One second, I’ve got a call to make first.”

Derek rolled his eyes: “To who ?”

“The sheriff. To tell him how delightful it was to chat with his son while waiting for my snacks to arrive. He really is a brilliant young man.”

Derek was confused for a second, before understanding: “Really, Peter ? You’re going to tattle on Stiles for leaving his house ?”

“Well, it is Thanksgiving after all. And my lovely boyfriend too deserves to know how grateful I am to have him in my life,” Peter smirked while waiting for the police department to pick up. “Yes, could I have Sheriff Stilinski, please ?”

The dinner went fine. Everyone carefully avoided any sensitive subject – which meant that there was a long and awkward silence until Laura got the wolfsbane out and after that, everyone was too drunk to really care about sensitive subjects. Erica smiled, Isaac laughed, Peter and Laura ended up doing the dishes together and Boyd and Derek just sat back and enjoyed it all. It was the best Thanskgiving since the fire.

Except for Stiles. Who got two more weeks of punishment and yelled at Peter through the phone.

* * *

 

_What should I get Peter for Xmas ?_

Derek almost couldn’t believe the text he had just received from Stiles. ‘Cause yeah, now he and Stiles were texting, apparently. Derek had to fix that very soon.

The phone buzzed in his hand again before he had time to tell him to fuck off:

_Srsly dude, help, my only idea rn is my naked body tied with a red bow_

Ugh, this had to stop. As he put the phone screen down on the table, Laura asked:

“Who’s texting you ?”

It was natural for her to be puzzled since Derek wasn’t exactly known to be a social butterfly. The pack's numbers were the only ones he had from Beacon Hill in his phone. The pack’s and Stiles’. Still, her noisiness pissed him off.

“Stiles,” he rumbled. Then, thinking that he might as well be done with it: “He wants to know what to get you for Christmas.”

Peter lowered his newspaper and raised an eyebrow quizzically.

“Oh, that’s so sweet !” Laura cooed.

“Nothing,” Peter answered, absolutely unimpressed as he went back to his reading, “just himself - clothes optional - will be fine.”

“God, the two of you really found each other” Derek groaned.

He had the feeling that he was really too involved in his uncle’s sex life lately.

“So… Christmas,” Laura said, waggling her eyebrows.

“I’m stopping you right there, darling. I already put up with that disgrace you called Thanksgiving, I’m drawing the line at Christmas,” Peter stated with a look that didn’t allow any objections.

Laura pursed her lips but said: “Fine. But you’re getting Stiles a present, that’s only polite.”

“My constant presence in his life is a gift in itself.”

“Peter,” Laura warned, but their uncle ignored her completely.

Derek’s phone buzzed again and he took it, preparing himself for another of Stiles’ rampage, but was surprised to see it was from Laura. He hadn’t even noticed her taking out her phone.

_Take him to the mall and I’ll set up a xmas tree while you’re gone_

Derek glared at Laura’s innocent face but stood up anyway: “Come on, I’m taking you shopping for… Stilinski.”

Their uncle rolled his eyes but closed his newspaper and got up as well: “You two are a menace. Fine, let’s be nice for Christmas. But I’m warning you, I’m probably going to offer him a sextoy.”

Fuck Derek’s life.

* * *

 

Thankfully, they avoided any sexshop. Instead, they strolled through the crowd of stressed humans, anxious at finding the best and cheapest gift for their loved ones. Being surrounded by so many people, so loud and rude and running and pushing _everywhere_ , was not improving Derek’s mood, and neither was Peter’s bored expression.

“Any idea ?” Derek gritted out, feeling his patience running out as a baby started wailing just next to them.

“None.”

“Damnit, Peter ! It’s not that complicated, what does he like ?”

“I don’t know,” his uncle said with a roll of his eyes, “sex and curly fries ?”

Exceeded, Derek grabbed Peter by the arm and dragged them into an empty clothing store, feeling that it was that or roaring at a baby to make it shut up. The cashier threw them a surprised look when they barged in but, upon seeing Derek’s stormy expression, wisely chose to leave them be. Now that they were away from the crowd, Derek could already feel his pulse slow down and he released his uncle.

“You can stop pretending, you know ? I saw you come running like a pup just because you received a text from him.”

“A text promising a blowjob,” Peter rectified.

“That was only after,” Derek pointed out. “You care about him. You actually care.”

Peter tensed like he had just been insulted and chose to peruse through the shop instead of looking Derek in the eye.

“Don’t make it sound so disgustingly cheesy, of course I care. I have big plans for that boy.”

Derek shook his head but didn’t push.

“What about that ?” he asked instead, lifting up a nice leather jacket.

As it happened, the shop was deserted because it was one of Beacon Hills’ most expensive. Not that Derek cared, the Hales had always been wealthy and when most of your family died in what had been proclaimed an accidental fire, well let’s just say that they might have bankrupt one of the largest life insurance company of the country.

“Well, Derek, I never knew you were so sentimental,” Peter remarked with a little smile on the corner of his lips.

“What ?” he grumbled. “It’s just a jacket.”

“A very nice one. Almost the exact same one that we bought Erica, Boyd and Isaac. The same one that you, Laura and I have. Oh, my, Derek,” Peter sing-sang “are we welcoming Stiles into the pack ?”

“Shut up and just take the damn jacket,” Derek growled, and the clerk behind the counter looked slightly terrified.

“No thank you,” his uncle turned his back petulantly, “ I will wait until Stiles becomes actually valuable to us to… Oh. _”_

Now, that couldn’t be good. Peter turned on his heels, a manic look on his face and a sly smile on his lips.

“I’m going to buy him a _gun_.”

Seriously. Fuck. Derek’s. Life.

(He bought the jacket anyway, even if he couldn’t say why.)

* * *

 

A week before Christmas, there was a catastrophe.

Of course, there was. That’s just Derek’s life for you, one train wreck after another. Every time he lets his guard down, every time he thinks he’s safe, that this is it, that he can just sit back for one second, another disaster happens.

He just never thought the disaster would be Isaac, sweaty and panting, stumbling inside the flat with a gunshot wound in the shoulder.

Derek barely registered Laura’s screams, or Peter running down the stairs, all he could sense was the acrid smell of wolfsbane in the air and the bleeding, gaping wound that wouldn’t heal. That was the work of the Argents, it had to be.

“What happened ?” Laura asked hysterically as Peter put a passed out Isaac on the couch, ripping out his shirt, “What happened ?!”. The wound was awful: a puffed out, red, oozing mess, with black veins spreading fast, from the shoulder to Isaac’s neck and down his torso.

“Derek,” Peter called, snapping him out of his trance.

He ran to the kitchen drawer and got out a lighter and one of the few strands of dry wolfsbane Deaton had given them. He then went back to Isaac’s side and lit the wolfsbane with shaking hands. The smoke was purple and its scent was choking them all, but it made the black lines stop their advance and Isaac’s healing kicked in, pushing the bullet out and closing the wound.

“Derek ! Call Erica and Boyd, right now ! Isaac ! What happened ?!”

Laura’s screams seemed distant to Derek’s ears, as if he was underwater. His eyes were fixed on Isaac’s shoulder, where the skin was smooth under the red blood and the yellowish secretions. The veins’ weren’t visible anymore, but in Derek’s mind, they were still there, pulsing and throbbing, spreading endlessly to Isaac’s heart.

“Derek ! Derek ! Call the others ! Derek !”

He felt a hand –Peter’s – shake him forcefully, blunt nails digging into his skin, but Laura had lost patience: she let out a deafening roar, so low that no human could possibly hear it clearly, but Derek, Peter and Isaac all froze, shuddering to their core at their Alpha’s call, and no doubt that Erica and Boyd could hear it too, wherever they were.

Isaac woke up at that, panting and trembling all over, grasping his own shoulder frantically.

“Isaac,” Laura called, kneeling beside the couch and taking his hand, “Sweetie, you’re alright, shhh, what happened ?”

“He got shot with wolfsbane, that’s what happened,” Peter snapped. “Argent broke our truce, as I told you he would ! We have to go now and destroy him and his family of snakes before he comes for us !”

“Wait no !” Isaac yelped, sitting so fast that Derek and Peter had to push him to remain on the couch. “No, you can’t do that, he didn’t break anything, I deserved it, I swear, don’t do anything !”

“What ?” Laura asked, confusion clear in her tone. “Isaac what are you talking about ? Does he have a fever ?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” the boy said, swatting Derek’s hand away. “I swear I’m fine, but don’t go, please !”

Before Laura could ask another question, Erica and Boyd came barging through the door, wolfed out and panting. They’d probably run to get here.

“What happened ?” Erica wheezed, “Is he alright ? Is he alright ?!”

“He’s fine,” Peter barked. “Now get ready, we’re going to kill some hunters.”

“No, no, no, he was right to shoot me, I was on his roof !”

Everyone suddenly turned toward Isaac, astonished.

“What did you just say ?” Laura exclaimed, her voice going high with bafflement.

What the fuck would Isaac do on the Argent’s roo… Oh no, Derek thought, struck with a terrible sense of déjà vu. Please, everything but that.

“I wanted to see Allison,” the boy admitted sheepishly.

Fuck.

“ _Excuse me ?”_ Laura screeched and even Peter took half a step back, as if touching Isaac had just burnt him. “Why would you _do_ that ? Are you actually stupid ? Or suicidal ? We had a deal ! We had a fucking truce and you broke it ! How, how did that even…” She was gasping, scratching her hair, moving back and forth like a madwoman and Derek wanted nothing more than to hug her, to tell her to calm down, but he couldn’t. Because it felt like a bad reboot, all over again.

“Why would you do that ?” She repeated, looking at him as if he were a stranger.

“Because… I like her.”

“You like her ? _You like her ?_ ” she cackled without any humor, and tears started to appear at the corner of her eyes. “Didn’t she have a boyfriend ? Stiles’ friend ?”

Isaac shifted in a sitting position, and this time, nobody tried to tell him otherwise: “They are on a break right now. And we got paired up in chemistry two weeks ago and we hit off and she is… she is really nice. Like really really nice.”

“I can’t believe it,” Laura whispered, “Peter ! Weren’t you suppose to know that kind of things ? Keep tabs on her through Stiles ? We talked about this !”

“Well I don’t exactly listen to every one of his friend’s drama,” their uncle said defensively.

“Oh great ! That’s just great !” Another shrieking laugh, which made Derek wince. “So now he’s in love with a hunter. Here we go _fucking_ again !”

It was an arrow thrown directly into Derek’s heart, piercing the skin and twisting the flesh. But she was right, he had been the one starting this, all of this. Isaac was merely following in his footsteps. Oh god… Did he do anything that might have influenced him ? Was he really that toxic ?

“She’s not a hunter ! You said it yourself, they only know about the family business when they are eighteen, Allison is only seventeen !”

“That was when they had a code, _you idiot_ !” Laura roared, making Isaac jump and cower on the couch, but she pinned him with a red glare. “When they didn’t slaughter our entire family, when we could trust them ! Oh for fuck’s sake !” She screamed at nothing and kicked the armchair so strongly that it flew into the staircase with a clang. “I can’t believe this is happening all over again, why do I have to be stuck with idiotic teenagers thinking with their _dicks_?!”

Derek tried to catch her hand, to appease her, but she rebuked his offer and kept on pacing until she asked, in a voice so suddenly low and broken that Derek wanted to scratch his ears out:

“How could you do this ? How could you hide this from all of us ?”

Isaac lowered his head. Two heartbeats sped up at the same time.

“Oh no, you didn’t,” Peter hissed, turning toward Erica and Boyd who didn’t meet his eyes, heads low like Isaac.

“You knew,” Laura whispered, and her broken heart was so audible that suddenly, Derek was furious too, feeling his Alpha - his sister - attacked _from the inside_. “Both of you. You knew all this time and you didn’t say anything, did you ?”

At that, Isaac had the brave stupidity to look up and snap: “Don’t blame them, it’s not their fault ! We never agreed to any of this, the plan against the Argents, the crazy vendetta, that’s all you ! You can’t just drag us into this and…”

He ended up abruptly cut off by Peter’s claws digging into his throat, choking him.

“Now, now” their uncle whispered, with his eyes glowing a bright yellow, tightening his hold.

Neither Derek nor Laura answered Erica’s and Boyd’s alarmed look.

“You ungrateful, sniveling, disloyal _mutts_. You think you have a say in all of this ? You think this is a democracy ? It’s not,” he said slowly, piercing Isaac’s skin and watching little rivulets of blood roll down on the boy’s naked chest.

Isaac looked terrified. Erica was crying. Boyd was on the verge of hyperventilating.

Derek didn’t give a shit.

“You _owe_ us. You owe us everything. What would you be without us ? A scared little boy pushed around by his father, spending all your nights weeping inside a fucking fridge. And you,” he continued, throwing daggers at Erica “an epileptic little bitch, forever unnoticed by every boy at school. _Pathetic losers,_ ” he snarled, clawing at Isaac’s throat until the boy gargled, choking on his own blood. “That’s what you are ! You think that because you survived the bite it’s all leather jackets and super strength? You think you are entitled to this ? We made you a gift, the greatest of them all, we turned you into _gods_ and the second we look away you stab us in the back !”

With a powerful shove, he let Isaac go and threw him on the floor, reeling and gasping for breath as he spat out blood.

“Get out. All of you. And don’t bother locking your windows tonight, because if I feel like paying you a visit, when it’s dark and when no one is awake to hear you scream, _nothing_ will stop me.”

He was horrifying, a monster right out of a fairy tale, and the pups scattered out without a word, running for their lives, their stuttering heartbeats echoing long after they were gone.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Laura whispered, barely audible, and looking with horrible fascination at the little specks of blood Isaac left on the ground in front of her.

Peter didn’t seem to care, he just sat on the couch, head in his hands, shoulders sagging.

“Actually,” Derek said, for the first time since it had all started, “I think this time he was right.”

And Laura knew it too.

It didn’t make the silence in the flat any easier.

* * *

 

_Is stg wrong with Peter ?_

Derek frowned down at his phone.

_Why ?_

_Idk he spent the last hour on my bed doing/saying nothing. did stg happen ?_

Derek sighed, looking at Laura where she was sleeping on his bed, facing away from him, her dark hair falling on the pillows and on her shoulders, still clad in the same red plaid shirt. She had slept all through yesterday and was obviously planning on doing the same today. He should probably get them something to eat. But he wasn’t hungry, and neither was she, he would bet.

 _Anything I can do ?_ Stiles asked him again.

Derek thought of the last three days, of the armchair that nobody put back in place, of the undecorated tree downstairs, of the constant silence that seemed to have fallen on them, as if they were mourning.

_Just be there for him_

* * *

 

“So can you… uh… pick me up at school ?”

Derek looked at the speaker of his phone with a dumbfound expression.

“What the fuck, Stiles ?” He asked, because it was the first time Stiles ever called him, and he expected screams and a possible death threat. Not the awkward, slightly giggling tone of the sheriff’s son.

“Well, I’m still punished for the Thanksgiving sneak out, so my Jeep privileges have been lifted. And my bike… anyway, I need a lift and I kinda don’t want to be seen alone in a car with Peter ? It would be less weird with you.”

“Can’t you call someone else ?” Derek groaned, lying back down next to Laura, still sleepy now that he knew there was no emergency.

“Oh yeah, of course, you’re right, let me call all my super-rich friends with their own cars, I’m so popular after all…” Stiles sneered.

Derek sighed and, with a groan worthy of an arthritic grandpa, got up and put on his shoes.

“I’ll be there in fifteen. But this is the last fucking time.”

“Thanks, dude,” and he hung up before Derek had the time to yell “Don’t call me dude” for what felt like the thousandth time. And it probably was.

Oh, how he missed the time when he could make Stiles piss his pants just by glaring at him. There was just too much between them now, Derek guessed, what with the incident with the baseball bat, Peter’s craziness and that awful night with the pink heels. They were _close_ , he realized, slightly horrified.

He got down the stairs for the first time in four days. Nothing had changed, the armchair was still against the staircase, the tree was losing its needles all over the floor, and Isaac’s blood was still there, brown and dry.

It was weird, going out after all this time spent in his bedroom, sleeping and holding Laura as she fought back angry tears. The sky was too bright, and his car too loud when he started the engine, everything was too normal, and Derek was furious because if his world was destroyed once more, then everything around should be shaken too.

He was in a foul mood when he stopped in front of the high school and that didn’t get any better when he found Stiles waiting for him in the parking lot with a dirty, twisted piece of metal that was probably a bike once, the tires obviously flat and the handle separated from the rest.

“This is not going to fit in my car,” he said after rolling down the window.

Stiles rolled his eyes and moved forward anyway, with a squeak of rusty metal.

“Well, it has to. Because I can’t just walk to school every day.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before destroying your bike,” Derek grumbled, but got out to help Stiles maneuver the thing on the backseat.

“You think I did that ?!” He squealed, cheeks red and puffed out, and almost blinded himself with the handle. “Some of us aren’t rich enough to go around destroying their own property, you know ?”

“Then what happened ?”

The boy let Derek bat his hands away before he actually got himself injured and crossed his arms, watching Derek do all the work.

“Guy at my school started talking shit and Scott was dumb enough to key his car. So he destroyed both our bikes…”

 “And Scott left you ?”

“Nah, he got a ride from Deaton since he works at the clinic all night, and I couldn’t ask him to just wait for my detention with Harris to be over.”

“You need to find better friends,” Derek ruffed out, uneasy at the idea of Stiles waiting alone in the school after everyone else had left. God knew that there were already too much supernatural monsters looming around.

The boy snorted once they both got in the car and Derek started the engine: “Believe it or not, it’s not as if people were queuing in front of my house, waiting for me to take my pick. Plus, Scott’s my bro,” he said with a tone that didn’t allow any remarks.

Derek stayed silent for a while. Then, thinking that he might as well do what Peter should have done all those weeks ago, he asked:

“How is Scott ?”

Stiles rolled his eyes and slouched a little deeper into the seat, toying with his seatbelt: “Awful, he and Allison broke up and he’s just moping around, all heartbroken. I’m mean, I do my best to cheer him up but they’re all these rumors at school that she’s been seeing other guys like Isaac or Jackson –which, seriously ! She’s losing friendship points for that ! Like, Isaac is kind of a douche – no offense – and Jackson is a _massive_ douche, even more so since Lydia broke off with him. He’s the one that destroyed my bike, saying that Allison was better off without Scott and that he could be a boyfriend she deserved. I get that Scott’s angry but next time, I’m gonna restrain him from just hulking out on Jason’s car… Anyway, your usual high school dramas,” Stiles shrugged.

Derek didn’t know if he should be appalled by what he just heard - not that he gave a damn about who the Argent girl dated - but about how Peter could have missed something like that in Stiles’ endless stream of words. It was not like the kid was restraining any information – more like shoveling them at Derek – so how the hell did Peter manage to be ignorant of that ? He always went on about how Stiles was a valuable source of information, and how much potential he had as a future hunter for the pack. What exactly did he do all these evenings and week-ends at Stiles’ ? As much as it made Derek cringe to think about it, they couldn’t possibly spend all their time boning.

“Did you talk about this with Peter?” Derek asked, because at this point he really needed to know where his uncle’s head was.

Stiles started drumming his fingers on his thigh while repeatedly jerking his knee to some silent tempo. The kid just never stopped moving.

“Not really, I know he doesn’t care much about that sort of stuff and I don’t want to bore him with it.”

At that, Derek frowned, and he desperately wanted to ask Stiles what they talked about instead, but the boy cut him off: “What’s the deal with all of you, lately ? Your frowny face is even frownier than usual.”

Isaac’s terrified expression while Peter choked him flashed in front of his eyes, and Derek could feel all his muscles tense at once. Still, knowing that he had to say something, he answered:

“You know our… troubled teens program ?”

“Yeah, Erica, Isaac and Boyd, right ?”

“Yeah… Well let’s just say they weren’t as grateful for our help as we thought they would be.”

Stiles stopped his jittery moves for a second and scrunched up his nose before he started fiddling with the door handle:

“Man, that sucks.”

That was kind of an understatement since their new pack was already fractured, Laura spent all her time sleeping, Peter was prostrated God knew where and Derek wanted to rip something out with his teeth. But for Stiles’ sake he only said:

“Yeah. It sucks.”

“I’m sure it’s going to be fine.”

Derek gripped the steering wheel tighter and tried his best not to be angry at Stiles’ words.

“You don’t know that,” he muttered, eyes dead fixed on the road.

“Of course, I do,” Stiles scoffed like it was nothing. “They worship you!”

“What ?”

“Isaac, Erica and Boyd,” Stiles repeated with an implied “you moron” in his tone. “You should see them at school, strolling around in their freakin’ leather jackets like they own the building. Did you know that Isaac pushed Jason into a locker once? And Boyd tackled him during lacrosse practice. And I’m not even talking about Erica. Lydia said all around school that if she tried to run for prom queen she would _cut a bitch down_. I swear it’s like having mini-Hales all over Beacon High.”

Derek couldn’t say if it was fondness taking over him, or if he was just experiencing early signs of an imminent heart attack, but he stayed silent anyway.

He parked in front of the sheriff’s house and didn’t turn off the engine while Stiles battled with the seatbelt, and then with the door handle, before finally going out.

“Don’t bother with the bike,” Derek said, not even knowing why. “I’ll see if anything can be saved.”

Stiles looked at him with big, blinking eyes, but nodded gratefully. However, Derek was surprised when he didn’t close the door, and leaned in instead, worrying his lip between his teeth:

“Thanks.” He seemed to hesitate for a second before going on: “Don’t worry, dude. It’s going to be all right. And… M- Merry Christmas, Derek,” he said hastily, throwing something down Derek’s lap before slamming the door shut and running inside his house.

Derek looked at the little package on his lap, stunned. It was a pack of sour candy, which must have been Canadian since Derek had never heard of it, and really, if it were an American brand, he would have known about it: _SOURWOLF, they’ll leave you howlin’_ was written in bright neon letters next to a cartoon wolf with its tongue lolling out.

This time, it was definitely a fond smile on Derek’s lips.

* * *

 

Christmas was sad, but not awful.

Peter actually showed up, buzzing with energy and with a smile that made him look ten years younger and left Derek and Laura amazed; they soon understood his reaction when he told them, proud as a lion, that Stiles had bought him a skateboard for Christmas and that “they were going outside immediately and try it out in the skater park _”._

That’s how they found themselves in Beacon Hills’ skater ring in the middle of the night, eating cold fried chicken and a frosted chocolate cake with plastic forks, taking turn on Peter’s new skateboard, each trying to make the other fall on their ass. It was surprisingly okay and Derek managed to make Laura laugh several times, so that was a win.

“Did you really buy Stiles a gun ?” he asked after they had finished the cake and Peter was doing kick flips.

Laura made a face at that but didn’t comment.

“Of course, I already gave him but he didn’t seem really receptive. He explained me – at length, I swear I should have bought him a gag instead – that he was against civilians being allowed to have firearms, while simultaneously unloading the gun.” He tried a particularly complex figure and the skateboard slipped underneath him. Peter landed perfectly on his feet, of course, but he glared at the board’s rebellion. “I swear, what kind of father only teaches their kids how to _unload_ a gun? He could have at least taught him how to shoot…”

“I like Sheriff Stilinski,” Laura nodded. “He’s a good guy, always has been. Do you remember, Derek ? He was the one who talked to us after the fire”

Derek remembered. The face of the Sheriff – deputy at the time – was blurry, but he still remembered his kind eyes and the hug he gave him while the firemen were searching the house for survivors.

“Yes, well, Stiles won’t be of any use to us by just being _a good guy_.”

At that, Derek sniffled: “You can drop the act, you know. I don’t buy it anymore.”

Peter stopped in his tracks, one foot on the skate, and cocked an eyebrow: “Excuse me, nephew ?”

“The whole _I just care about Stiles because he’s useful_. It’s more than that, you know it and I know it.”

Peter rolled his eyes and went back to his figures: “Not that nonsense again, I thought I made it very clear at the store.”

“Yeah, but that was before I had a little chat with Stiles.” Derek immediately regretted his choice of words when Laura turned toward him, a disbelieving smile on her face.

“You have little chats with Stiles ?”

Derek could feel his cheeks redden in the dark and quickly stirred the conversation in the right direction: “Shut up. Stiles told me you didn’t even talk about the Argent girl or about anything that could be useful to the pack. So what exactly are you two talking about ?”

Derek was relieved when Laura turned her attention toward Peter, asking slyly: “Yeah, what are you and Stiles talking about ?”

Their uncle huffed out condescendingly: “Of the best ways for him to use his mouth other than for speaking.”

Laura chuckled, unfazed: “That’s the thing, Peter, you can only gross us out so many times with the same subject. We are immune now.”

“Wonderful, then I can tell you about my future plans for Stiles: anal.”

Derek closed his eyes with disgust just thinking about it and Laura giggled like a four-year-old, kicking her legs in the air where she and Derek were seated on the edge of the skating ring: “Oh my god! I really didn’t need to know that… For fuck’s sake, Peter, just stop avoiding the question!”

Peter sighed heavily and stopped trying to do a back flip on his skateboard, and contented himself with rolling it in circles, carefully looking down: “We just talk… About most of the things I missed during my coma, we listen to music, watch movies, play video games… I try to elevate his hormonal, imbecile brain with some literary culture – which is not easy, let me tell you that. Plus, he’s got a terrible attention span, I swear a dog can focus longer than him… And, well… I suppose we _do_ talk about the family sometimes.”

This caught Laura and Derek off guard.

“ _Our_ family ?” Laura asked incredulously.

“I leave out any supernatural detail, of course,” Peter shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

And he was right, it wasn’t a big deal. It was a _huge_ deal.

“Peter…” Laura started but found herself at loss for words.

“No need to get all sentimental about this,” their uncle warned. “The first who gets sentimental will wake up missing a fang. I still have those pliers, you know?”

They both scrunched up their nose at that, too familiar with the pliers that their mother would use to help loose milk-teeth come out – always a challenge for young wolves. Once he had been old enough, Peter would always search for any opportunity to use them, chasing Cora around the house until she cried. Even back then he was an asshole.

“Merry Christmas, jerk,” Laura grunted out, putting an end to that conversation.

“Merry Christmas, my dears,” Peter answered with a predatory smile, going back to his figures.

* * *

 

Derek had received a text from Boyd.

Nothing much, just a _hey_ , and he was fiddling with his phone, debating on whether he should answer or not when it buzzed with another text, from Peter this time: _come to stiles, bring the jacket_.

At that, Derek raised one eyebrow and only when he was on his feet, the shopping bag in one hand and his car keys in the other, did he wonder since when it had become so natural to be involved in Peter’s thing for Stiles. He really needed to take a step back from what could only been a ticking bomb. Stiles might have been starting to fit into all the crevices of their lives, filling up empty spaces and cracks, but that didn’t mean that it was going to last. It only took one look at Derek’s pack to see that things usually went to shit with the Hales. And lately, it was often because of Peter. Really, it was a goddamn miracle he hadn’t sabotaged his relationship with the kid yet.

But yeah, distance, Derek told himself as he parked in Stiles’ street. He could see the sheriff’s cruiser in the driveway and could hear the news playing in the living room, which convinced him not to use the front door. Not that he needed much convincing; he’d never actually used the Stilinski’s front door. Checking that no one was watching, he climbed his way to Stiles’ window, trying not to crumple the bag too much. Peter was already waiting for him on the other side, opening the window and letting Derek crawl inside.

“Look, Stiles, it’s Santa,” Peter sneered, that shithead.

“Very funny,” the kid deadpanned from where he was going through his wardrobe – or what was left of it, since most of its content was already spilled all over the bedroom floor. “But seriously, this has to stop ! No more Hales coming through the window, that’s an order.”

“Of course, sweetheart, I’ll just ring the doorbell and say hi to your father next time I feel like coming here.”

Stiles flailed his arms, slipping on an abandoned tee-shirt before catching himself to his desk at the last second, rattling everything on it. Once he was more or less stable, he threw him a furious glance: “Very funny. You know what I mean.”

As he went back to his closet, Derek gave the bag to Peter who looked at his extended arm as if his nephew had sprouted his claws.

“What ?” Derek asked.

“What are you doing ? That’s your gift, give it to him.”

Derek startled: “What ?! I thought you wanted to give it to him after all !”

“Are you out of your mind ? I already gave him my Christmas gift,” Peter sniffed. “Give him yourself, it’s your money.”

“Yeah, and it’s your…” Derek bit his lips before letting the word “boyfriend” slip out. Peter looked slightly amused but shrugged and threw himself on Stiles’ bed, lying down all over the mountain of Stiles’ clothes without a care, and if he thought Derek hadn’t seen him take a quick sniff of the scent with a contented look, he was sorely mistaken.

Aware that he couldn’t just stand in the middle of the room with the bag in his hands forever, Derek did what he had to do: he threw the package at Stiles’ feet, making the boy jump, and Derek wondered if he had the same dumb expression on his face when Stiles had given him the pack of candy in his car. He hoped not.

“What’s that ?” Stiles asked, blinking down at the box peaking out of the bag as if something with a lot of teeth might come out of it.

Derek put his hands in his pockets defensively. Seeing that Peter had closed his eyes and wasn’t going to help him any time soon, he just mumbled: “Christmas present.”

Stiles’ eyebrows almost reached his forehead as he took the box, and then frown themselves into a knot as he saw the label: “This better not be what I think it is,” he hissed, throwing daggers at Peter, who smiled without even bothering to open his eyes: “It’s not, darling, I’m saving that for Valentine’s day.”

Stiles blushed a deep crimson and Derek didn’t even want to know what the hell they were talking about. He had the disturbing feeling that it had something to do with the pink heels, and that was already too much for him. He could feel all his muscles tense up when Stiles finally opened the box and took the leather jacket out, stunned.

“Wow… That’s… more than what I paid for the candy ?”

Derek shrugged, uncomfortable under Stiles’ awed look: “It’s nothing.”

Stiles seemed ready to disagree but didn’t say anything and just thanked Derek awkwardly. Thankfully, Peter broke the thick silence in the room with his usual lazy tone: “You could wear that tonight.”

Stiles’ eyes flashed with excitement and he exclaimed: “Right ! That’s just perfect ! Great timing, dude.” Derek just let that one slide and reclined against the windowsill: “What’s happening tonight ?”

“Lydia’s birthday !” Stiles practically shouted, looking for something on the ground, among the piles of tee-shirt, sweats, hoodies and socks.

Derek was a bit puzzled, until he remembered: Lydia Martin. The infamous queen bee of Beacon High, it seemed.

“Aha !” Stiles exclaimed, brandishing a black tee like a trophy. “It’s – like, the biggest event of the year, everyone cool will be there ! And she invited me too !”

“You harassed her until she couldn’t ignore you anymore,” Peter corrected with a smirk.

Stiles’ blush extended all the way down his shirt: “Shut up,” he hissed. “I was perfectly cool about it.”

“I bet you were like an annoying bug, buzzing around her until she surrendered.”

“Shut. Up.” Stiles gritted again, throwing a stray sweatshirt at Peter’s head, who didn’t even bother catching it. He then explained the process of how he got invited, while simultaneously undressing in quick, jerky moves. Derek looked away politely, but it wasn’t as if there was much to see: just a long expanse of skinny bones, awkward angles and sickly pale skin.

“Ok… Derek, I might just kiss you.”

“Urg, please refrain,” he groaned but when he turned his head, a small smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

Stiles was planted in front of the mirror of his wardrobe, looking at himself with excitement: the jacket suited him perfectly, giving the illusion of a square shape to his pointy shoulders, and with the black tee and the dark jeans, he looked quite handsome. Peter seemed to think so too with the way his eyes were set on Stiles, like a predator ready to pounce on a prey.

Derek just ignored him and looked back at Stiles - who was arranging his hair - and only noticed now that the kid was growing out of his buzz cut. That, too, suited him quite well.

“Damn, I spent the last three years dreaming to go to Lydia’s birthday, I can’t believe it’s finally happening !”

Peter rolled his eyes at the kid’s energy and fell back on the bed: “Don’t forget to raid her closet while no one is looking.”

“Oh my god ! I’m _not_ going to steal Lydia’s clothes !”

“You know you want to,” Peter sing sang and Derek thought it was a good time to take his leave. But before he could just disappear quietly, Stiles narrowed his eyes and warned: “You really shouldn’t try to embarrass me in front of Derek, you’re the one who has most to lose.”

“Please,” Peter laughed condescendingly. “Do your worst, love.”

He then made an open hand gesture that seemed to infuriate Stiles even more and the kid crossed his arms on his chest: “You want me to tell him about the time you said that I had eyelashes that could make _Helen of Troy_ blush?”

Derek snorted at the same time Peter sprung into an upright position, glaring: “That was just ironic poetry. A satire if your poor skills in literature can help you grasp my meaning.”

“Oh, I get your meaning just fine. Just like when you told me that I had the most _uncanny_ mind and that I shouldn’t ever doubt myself. Right ?” He smirked.

“Get out,” Peter hissed, like a snake ready to attack. “Go to your stupid party and try not to drool too much on your hostess.”

“Bye bye, close the window on your way out,” Stiles smiled victoriously, winking at Derek before stomping down the stairs.

“My boyfriend is a moron,” Peter despaired.

“I don’t know, he just keeps getting better and better to me,” Derek snickered just as Stiles was wishing his dad a good night downstairs.

“ _Stiles !_ ” The sheriff called out, and both Peter and Derek turned their head instinctively to listen.

 _“… Yeah ?”_ Derek didn’t even need to be downstairs to imagine the sudden nervous look on Stiles’ face.

There was the creak of leather and then the footsteps of Sheriff Stilinski – probably joining his son in the entryway: _“Where did you get that jacket ?”_ Derek bit his tongue at the suspicious question, just as Peter smiled like someone who got their revenge sooner than expected.

_“Uh… It’s a Christmas present.”_

The Sheriff hummed: _“Looks expensive. Didn’t know you had such wealthy friends.”_

_“Yeah, uh, it’s – it’s from Scott.”_

Peter chuckled and Derek closed his eyes, as if that could prevent him from hearing the train wreck downstairs.

“ _Scott… ? Did he get a raise at the vet clinic ?”_

 _“Hmm, well, I don’t know, I guess…”_ Peter shook his head at Stiles’ babbling: “He really is a terrible liar.” “ _Look, dad, can we do this later ? I’m going to be late for Lydia’s party._ ”

There was a short silence, filled only by Stiles’ rapid heartbeat, full of anxiety, and then: “ _… Right. Lydia’s party. That’s where you’re going.”_

_“Yeeeah ? I just told you.”_

_“How stupid do you think I am, Stiles ?”_ The Sheriff’s tone meant no-bullshit and Derek could suddenly see how Stiles ended up the way he did.

 _“I think the real question is how stupid would I like you to be ?”_ Was the mouthy reply and Stilinski just sighed heavily before dismissing him: _“This is not over, Stiles. And you better prepare your defense because, unlike what you may think, I **can**_ _ground you until you’re eighteen.”_

 _“Never doubted that, bye, dad. Don’t order pizza while I’m not here,”_ and then the door opening and closing. Another heavy sigh and the Sheriff went back to the living room.

“Well, let’s go nephew, I won’t be surprised if that idiot manages to get himself killed tonight.”

* * *

 

It really was a cruel twist of fate that, at one in the morning, every cell phones in the flat started buzzing frantically, with desperate texts: _ITS STILES PICK UP ! HELP !_

Derek scrambled to answer the call, and in the other rooms, he could hear Laura and Peter do the same:

“Derek, finally !” Boyd panted on the phone, and if Derek focused, he could hear Erica and Isaac’s hysterical voices in the background, yelling at Laura and Peter. “We have a problem, it’s Stiles ! We don’t know what’s wrong with him ! You gotta come to Lydia Martin’s house, right now ! We managed to get him out of the house but he’s – I don’t even know, but we need help !”

Derek was on his feet before even being completely awake and, as he threw his door open, he almost butted into Laura, zipping on her jeans, and Peter, a furious look on his face: “Give me the address, Erica, we’re on our way,” she said at the same time as their uncle hissed: “Don’t take your eyes off him, if anything happens to him, I’m burying you alive, Lahey.”

Peter got into Derek’s Camaro, while keeping Isaac on speaker to simultaneously inquire about Stiles and threaten them of impending doom, and Derek followed Laura’s SUV to the nicer suburbs of Beacon Hills, where Lydia Martin’s house was easily spotted, what with the music and the chatter of probably sixty teenagers partying inside. And there, right on the sidewalk, four shadows – one of them on the ground.

Peter was out of the car before Derek even stopped the engine.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him !” Erica’s voice was a panicked shriek and Laura pushed her out of the way to kneel beside a writhing Stiles: “Stiles ? Stiles, do you hear me ? It’s Laura Hale,” but her words clearly didn’t meant anything, because the kid let out a deafening scream and started pushing and kicking Peter and Laura away from him: “NO ! Let me go, let me go, don’t – don’t !”

Derek was completely helpless in front of the screaming, sobbing mess that he had in front of him. It seemed that it had only been five minutes ago that Stiles had smiled, all proud and happy, in front of his own reflection. And there he was now: his hair matted with sweat, his cheeks wet with tears, and screaming his lungs raw.

“What the fuck did you do to him ?” Peter snapped to the pups, who were watching the all debacle with horror.

“Nothing, I swear !” Isaac raised his hands, clearly afraid that Peter would finish what he had started a week ago. Boyd put himself in front of him and tried to remain calm: “We were talking, that’s all, he drank a little, but not so much, and then he told us he wasn’t feeling well and… and now…” And now Stiles was practically clawing his way out of Laura’s arms, ignoring her soothing words as he kept on yelling and crying. “What did he drink ?” Derek asked, on autopilot, “How much ?”

“I don’t know, two – two glasses of punch, maybe, and a bit of whisky,” Erica moaned, cringing every time Stiles wailed, as if in pain. Derek pressed her: “That’s all ? From where ? Did he pour it himself ?”

She nodded shakily: “Yeah, the cups yeah, and the whisky from Isaac’s flask.” At that, he turned his head toward Isaac, astonished, while Peter seemed on the verge of a heart attack: “Wolfsbane ?” He hissed. “You gave him _wolfsbane_ ?” Isaac cowered behind Boyd, and cried out: “I guess, but it was only a sip, I swear. Why ? Did it- did it do something? Oh my god, did I poisoned him ?”

“Yes, dumbass,” Derek spat.

“But it’s just a flower ! It can’t –“ Laura interrupted him: “It’s hallucinogenic for humans. Derek, Peter, we got to get him in the car and get out of here, he’s going to wake up the entire neighborhood.”

She was right, even the basses pounding inside the house couldn’t cover Stiles’ blood-curling screams, begging them to let go of him, to stop, don’t don’t please –

Gritting his teeth, he watched as Peter and Laura got the kid inside her car. “You three, with me,” he barked, getting inside the Camaro, and rolling behind Laura. It was a good thing it was close to two am, because they sure as well weren’t respecting any speed limits or red lights.

“He’s going to be alright, right ?” Derek glanced quickly at Isaac in the rear-view mirror, but didn’t answer. Now that his fear was slowly getting back in check, he could feel the anger bubbling inside of him, and so he let the pup stew in his own sweat until they got to the flat, where Stiles almost brained himself against the door as he trashed in Peter’s arms, vomiting the content of his stomach on the floor – and there it was, among the gooey whiteness: the purple petals of wolfsbane.

“Stiles, calm down, it’s just us ! You’re at the flat, you’re safe,” Laura tried again desperately, but it was no use, Stiles kept on fighting and sobbing, his eyes darting across the room as if it were full of monsters – and really, it wasn’t far from the truth – and kept on with his mad rambling: “It’s not my fault ! It’s not my fault ! I’m so sorry ! I’m so so sorry, just let me go ! Let me go !”

Peter had to restrain him from scratching Laura with blunt nails and he maneuvered him on the couch, wrapping himself around Stiles after the kid kicked the coffee table over in a last frantic attempt to escape. It was awful, staying there, listening to his distressed cries without being able to do anything about it, just watching as Peter kept his shaking body close to him with his arms and legs, Laura reciting a litany of “hush” and “shhh” while petting his hair. But the worse was definitely when Stiles finally seemed to exhaust himself and sobbed hopelessly in Peter’s shoulder: “It’s not my fault ! It’s not my fault she’s _dead_ !”

Erica started crying too then, and Isaac looked away from the entire scene, and Laura’s face turned brokenhearted as she rubbed his back and whispered: “Of course not, of course it’s not your fault, nothing is your fault, shhhh, it’s okay, it’s okay now.”

They all stayed there, close by – Derek gripping the back of the couch facing the trio, the pups in the kitchen area – until Stiles cried himself to sleep. This might not have been Derek’s worst night, but it was certainly on top of the list. Only when they could hear his steady heartbeat and his regular breathing did Peter let go of him, slowly getting off the couch, and, after Laura put a cover on Stiles, they all went in the kitchen.

“They poisoned him,” their uncle stated, very calmly. And then he shifted, making the pups scramble to get away from him.

“Peter, calm down !” Laura ordered. “They didn’t do it on purpose.”

Peter ignored her, his voice a dark and low rumble from the shift: “Of course they did. They all hate Stiles: Isaac hates him because he feels competitive for our attention, Erica hates him because she still has a crush on him and she knows that it’s never going to be reciprocated, and Boyd hates him because he thinks Stiles is too much drama.”

“I don’t have a crush on Stiles !” Erica replied with indignation, at the same time as Isaac’s offended: “I’m not competing for anyone’s attention.” Boyd just shrugged with an apologetic look.

“You see ? They did this, and now it’s time to pay.”

Laura stopped him before he could take a step forward: “Technically, _we_ did this.” She explained without giving him a chance to lash out: “We never told them anything about the effects wolfsbane could have on humans. It’s our fault because we’re responsible for them. We made them werewolves, so if they screw up, it’s also on us.”

Derek could see that Laura wasn’t just improvising; it was clearly something she had mulled over for some days, so he stayed silent, even though he was still pissed as hell. “We can’t just let them loose in the street and then be surprised when they do something wrong. They need us.” Her tone was resolved, so there was no way to make her change her mind about it. Peter must have sensed that too because he looked calculatedly at the pups: “Fine, but we kill one of them to give the other two a lesson.”

Sensing that he was the one in question, Isaac gulped down, casting a desperate look in Laura’s way.

“We’re not killing anyone.”

“Goddamnit, Laura,” Peter groans, focusing his frustration on her. “Now is not the time to be soft.”

“Two minutes ago there was a crying, screaming, terrified kid on my couch,” she frowned, “I think it’s exactly the time to be calm and soft.”

“They put him in danger !” Peter finally erupted, his eyes glowing. “Yeah ! And we could have avoided that if we hadn't acted like morons for the past week !” Laura answered, just as vehemently.

“You’re going to wake him up,” Derek finally said, and that shut everyone up.

Seeing that they weren’t going anywhere with this – what with Peter so eager to put the blame on the pups and Laura resolved on blaming _them_ – Derek just sighed with irritation and went to sit on the couch opposite to Stiles. After that, not one word was uttered and everyone went on with their tasks, as if on silent instructions.

They all took turns, watching over Stiles, making coffee, taking a nap upstairs, making sandwiches, taking a shower, until the sun was high in the sky and Stiles finally woke up.

He moaned first, clearly in pain, and Laura jumped to get him a glass of water and something for his predictable headache. Seeing that Peter wasn’t going to move from his spot by the window – and that was just your typical Peter, never ready to show that he cared – Derek got up in case the kid needed help. Stiles sat on the couch, clutching his head and he almost jump when he saw the six of them, waiting for his next move.

“What the fuck ?” he mumbled, his eyes going all over the flat before stopping on Peter. “How did I get here ?”

“We brought you here,” Laura answered, setting the glass and pills on the coffee table carefully, as if _Stiles_ was the predator in the room. “You… You weren’t feeling well at the party, so the kids brought you here.”

Stiles frowned and then – as if remembering something particularly unpleasant – clenched his jaw.

“I wasn’t feeling well ? What a fucking understatement,” he snapped, and Laura took one step back, shocked.

“I…” She started but Peter finished for her: “We think there was something in the punch.”

Stiles turned toward him and Peter met his gaze calmly, not saying anything else. That certainly didn’t seem to help Stiles’ temper and the kid scratched his hair, his frustration obvious, and fished his phone out of his pocket, dismissing them entirely.

Derek was just about to tell him to take the pill when: “ _Shit_ , my dad called seven times.”

Laura and Derek exchanged a concerned look and when Stiles listened to his voicemail, they all heard.

It was a shit storm. The police had been called when one teenager –drunk out of his ass – had decided to start mowing a neighbor’s lawn at three a.m. and they had to shut the party down. The Sheriff had seen Stiles’ jeep but was asking him where he was. Stiles played the three voicemails, his heart beating a little bit faster every time, and they all heard the Sheriff’s voice becoming increasingly less angry and more worried as the night went by, and now that it was almost noon…

Stiles didn’t even finish the last voicemail; he just dialed his father immediately:

“ _Stiles !_ ” John Stilinski’s voice was half-relieved and half-livid. “ _Where the hell are you ?_ ”

“It’s okay, dad, I’m fine, I swear,” Stiles answered, staring at his own feet.

“ _Yeah, well you aren’t going to be for very long. Where are you ?_ ”

“Look, I – I’m coming home, okay ? We can talk about this once I’m there and –“

“ _Stiles, either you tell me where you are right now, or I swear to God I’m sending the entire precinct after you._ ”

Stiles put the speaker away from his mouth and cursed silently, shaking like a cornered animal. Laura hesitated for a second before sitting slowly next to him: “It’s okay, just give him the address,” she whispered.

The kid gnawed on his lip and seemed on the verge of crying.

He gave the address.

“ _The industrial area ? What the hell are you doing there ? Stiles ?_ ”

Stiles took a deep breath and, locking eyes with Peter across the room, said: “I’m at my boyfriend’s.”

A silence.

“ _… I’ll be there in fifteen._ ”

The call disconnected and Stiles let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands against his jeans. Peter didn’t say anything.

Isaac cleared his throat, but before he could open his mouth, Stiles said the most incredible thing:

“Derek, you are my boyfriend.”

“ _What ?_ ”

He wasn’t sure who yelled the louder between him and Erica, but Stiles’ glare was solely for him: “I’m in the shadiest part of Beacon Hills, clearly hangover – if not drugged -, I spent the most awful night of my entire life and my father is already set on killing me for disappearing the whole night _and_ for hiding him that I’m dating a guy. And you think that, what, I’m gonna tell him that my boyfriend is over thirty and was in a coma for the past ten years ?”

Derek was actually surprised by Stiles’ anger. With the dark circles under his eyes and his shaking members, Derek wasn’t even sure if he could stand, but he did look close to… dangerous right now. Derek looked at Peter for a clue, but all his uncle did was looking at Stiles with a little smile, completely unfazed by the whole thing.

“Hey, eyes over there, asshole,” Stiles barked and Derek obeyed, bewildered. “You owe me this one, all of you,” with a quick, furious glance around the room, he kept on: “Something in the punch ? I’m not a complete moron despite what you think. So you have ten minutes to pretend to be my slightly older boyfriend. Go shave and… and put on a shirt or something.”

* * *

 

Derek still couldn’t understand why he had agreed to just go with Stiles’ idea, or why Peter hadn’t objected to any of this. But he could feel that the two things were linked: maybe that was the “uncanny mind” that Peter had spotted the first time he had met Stiles that was just unveiling itself.

Anyway, here he was, on the parking lot of their building, stuck in one of Peter’s shirt that was both too long and too tight, already hearing the blasting sirens of the Sheriff’s cruiser in the distance, with Stiles beside him, still a little green, but showered and hydrated at least.

“You sure about this ?” he asked one last time, just as the car came barreling in front of them.

“Not one bit,” Stiles let out in a breath before being pulled into a ferocious hug by his father.

“Don’t _ever_ do that to me again,” John ordered shakily.

And Derek could relate to that desperation: that was the voice of a man who had thought his last thread of sanity had been cut. Derek would probably sound the same if something ever happened to Laura.

He looked away, giving the Stilinskis some illusion of privacy as Stiles apologized softly, over and over again. When they parted, the Sheriff turned toward Derek and scrutinized him from head to toe: “So, this is the boyfriend ?”

Derek clenched his jaw just as Stiles tried to act natural but just ended up weird: “Yup, that’s him, just… good ol’ Derek. I mean – not _that_ old just, you know… uh… Derek, meet father, father meet Derek.”

Stiles fidgeted under Derek’s and his father’s exasperated looks: “Right, shutting up now.”

Derek sighed heavily when John Stilinski turned his focus back on him, the embodiment of fatherly suspicion and disapproval: “Derek Hale. I heard you and your sister came back in town for a few months now. You came back for your uncle, right ?” At Derek’s careful nod, he kept on: “I’m glad that he’s fine now. You lot deserve to find some peace.” He stopped there, but the clench of his jaw said everything he didn’t: _just not with my son_.

However, and by this Derek was a bit surprised, the Sheriff didn’t show any more hostility, he just turned toward Stiles with a very tired look on his face: “I get why you didn’t tell me. But don’t ever do that, alright ? I don’t care about… about that. But I care when you start lying and disappearing for an entire night. So… just tell me, alright ? All I ask is to always know where you are, truthfully. Alright ?” Stiles nodded, relieved and understanding: “Of course, I – I won’t – I mean, I’ll tell you where I go, from now on, I swear.”

A quick glance at Derek left unsaid that he wouldn’t always tell with _who_ he was. But that seemed enough for the Sheriff: “Now get in the car, I’m taking you home. You’re grounded for two weeks, and I want you,” he said, looking at Derek, “to come have dinner with us Saturday night, that’s not a suggestion.”

Derek agreed meekly and exchanged one last glance with Stiles through the window of the cruiser.  Before getting in, the Sheriff added: “And buy a proper shirt, don’t look like one of the delinquents I deal with everyday.”

Goddamnit, this family will be the death of him, Derek realized as he watched the car drove away.

* * *

 

So, Derek didn’t exactly know how it happened. One second he was out of the clothing store, a new “proper” shirt in his hands, and the next he had bought Stiles’ a new bike. The process between the two was unclear, even to him.

Maybe he was nervous about the all sham with the Sheriff, and maybe he thought buying Stiles off would ensure that the teen wouldn’t tease Derek too much, or maybe he still felt guilty about that terrible night the kid had because of the pups, but really… Derek didn’t even want to dwell on the “why”.

Stiles’ bike had been beyond fixing and he was grounded again, so no Jeep. He needed a new bike and Derek needed to clear his conscience. That was all.

But as he looked at Stiles’ incredulous expression, he wondered once again at how _that_ kid, among the hundreds in Beacon Hills, had managed to gain such importance in Derek’s life: how without even knowing about the supernatural world, how without doing anything else than flailing his limbs and making terrible comments and being the biggest moron he had ever encountered, Stiles Stilinski had become part of their pack. Because, really, it wasn’t even worth denying it anymore. It didn’t matter that Stiles was not loyal to Laura, or that he probably hated the pups, or that his only ties to them was his love for Peter and this strange friendship with Derek. Stiles was pack.

Why then would Derek undertake the Sheriff’s scrutinizing eyes and suspicious questions for an entire meal, stuffing his mouth with lasagnas as an excuse not to answer with anything other than monosyllabic grunts ? At least, Stiles seemed equally uncomfortable, trying to distract the Sheriff’s attention from Derek with his incessant blabbering, talking and talking and talking until even his father couldn’t tune him out anymore :

“Alright, Stiles, that’s enough,” John Stilinski stated slowly but firmly, casting his piercing blue gaze toward his son. “I know you mean well, you’re uncomfortable, Derek’s uncomfortable, _I’m_ uncomfortable, for Christ’s sake ! But I – I can’t just let my only son running around town with a guy almost ten years older than him, not without at least trying to scare him out a little. So could you, please, let me do my job as a father, just for today, and then Derek can leave and neither of us has to go through this ever again ?”

That seemed to shut Stiles up, and Derek himself was impressed.

“I’m going to get dessert,” Stiles finally squealed out before scurrying into the kitchen with their dirty plates.

The Sheriff sighed in relief and the both of them shared a knowing look.

“He can be a handful, I don’t think I’m telling you anything new by that,” the man said in a low voice, looking down on his beer with a fond smile.

“Yeah, he is,” Derek just whispered back.

“Look, Derek, you – you seem like a nice enough guy. Especially considering… everything you and your family have been through. And let’s be honest, even if I disapproved, I know better than to forbid Stiles from seeing you, that would just make him elope or something equally ridiculous.”

Derek frowned in disgust just at the mention of him, Stiles and elopement in the same sentence. The things he did for Peter…

“But I also can’t forget that the two of you have been going behind my back for almost five months. So I want your word, as a man, not to let anything like that happen again, ok ? Stiles is – I don’t care what he does, or with who, but I need to know that he’s safe. Alright ?”

There was a raw emotion in the Sheriff’s worn out expression, and once again, Derek was faced with the fact that he and John Stilinski weren’t so different: they had little family left, and it would break them beyond repair to lose them. All he could do at that moment was swallow the thick lump in his throat and nod.

Another wave of guilt took over him, and he hated lying to that man, that _good_ , honest man who had helped them so many years before, but even if he couldn’t be honest about who Stiles was really dating, at least he could make sure the kid was safe. That was a promise he could keep.

So, when Stiles came stumbling with a defrosted tiramisu in his hands, it didn’t matter that the Sheriff’s face closed up again, or than he went back to his thorough interrogation of Derek’s background and motives. They had an understanding.

“So, that wasn’t so bad, right ?” Stiles asked afterwards, walking Derek to the door, twisting his fingers nervously.

Derek just cocked an eyebrow at him and left without further word, but no, it wasn’t so bad.

* * *

 

Scratch that, it was a fucking nightmare.

But really, he should have seen it coming; everything had been all too normal the last few days, what with Peter sneaking into Sties’ house every night to defile him without a care while Derek himself started getting back in touch with the pups.

That was actually where he was heading, with Laura in the passenger seat of the Camaro. They were going to meet the kids at school and then take them to the forest for a practice run before the next full moon, but they had been stopped by a patrol car.

Derek had pulled over diligently, frowning at where a deputy was advancing toward them.

“What’s the matter ?” Laura asked, puzzled.

Derek shrugged and rolled down the window where the deputy was leaning with a stern look on her face.

“Derek Hale ?” She asked, and that should have been the first sign that something was off.

“Yeah.”

“You were above the speed-limit.”

Derek blinked at her snapping voice.

“No I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you were. By two miles.”

That stunned him cold and he was trying to see if maybe it was a joke when Laura laughed incredulously: “You’re kidding, right ?”

It appeared to be the wrong answer when the deputy’s hand shot to the nightstick at her belt, her expression stormy: “Do I look like I’m kidding ?”

“Waw waw, no, sorry,” Laura backpedaled quickly, raising her hand in the air and sinking into her seat. “Forget I said anything.”

The dark-haired deputy nodded but her lips were still pinched tight as she eyed Derek like he was some king of dead possum on her front door.

“And your right tail light is a bit weak. I’m not giving you a ticket this time, but you better see to that.”

“… Right,” he answered meekly as she handed him a speeding ticket. For two miles above the limit.

“I don’t want to see Stiles in that car of yours before you fixed it,” the deputy finally barked before going back inside her own vehicle.

Her words took a few seconds before falling into place in Derek’s brain, and once they did, Laura confirmed his fears: “The Sheriff told the precinct on you.”

Her roars of laughter didn’t improve his mood and he was pissed as hell when he parked on the school parking lot, swearing under his breath and wishing Peter a long and excruciating punishment.

Laura was still giggling when there was a tap on his window.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, what now ?” He growled as he rolled it down to reveal a blond teen with a disdainful sneer.

“You Derek Hale ?”

“Seems that everybody in this fucking town know me, what do you want ?”

“Whatever Stilinski is buying.”

Goddamnit, was everyone obsessed with that kid ? Did Stiles had some magical pheromone or whatever the fuck else ?

“What the hell are you talking about ?”

The blonde jock rolled his eyes and scorned: “You’re his dealers, right ?”

“What ?” Laura exclaimed, not laughing at all anymore.

“Come on, cut the crap, I’ve seen you lurking around school since the beginning of the year. You’ve been dealing to the whole gang: Lahey, Reyes, Stilinski and the black dude. And now Isaac is frontline in the lacrosse team, Erica looks like a Victoria Secret model or whatever, and everyone saw Stiles’ bad trip at Lydia’s birthday party. And, look, I don’t judge, I want in. So what are you selling ? Steroids ?”

This day was getting weirder and weirder and Derek already regretted getting out of bed.

“I’m not selling anything, get out.”

The teen stopped him from rolling the window up by putting his fucking fist over it and looked at them in a way that could have been threatening if he wasn’t facing two werewolves.

“I got money, ok ? And I don’t give a fuck if Stilinski almost ODed, if he’s too fucking dumb to take what he can’t handle then he should think twice before screaming like a fucking baby on the sidewalk, pissing his –“

In a second, Laura was out of the car and had him pinned to the roof with a clang, her claws sank into his nape as he cried out in pain. Derek looked around worryingly but the last period wasn’t over yet and the parking lot was deserted.

“You listen to me, you self-entitled piece of shit,” she growled, her eyes flashing red, “you leave that kid alone, alright ? And you don’t ever mention any of this to anyone or I’ll drag you to the station myself, telling everyone about how you tried to purchase drugs, and I will make sure not a single dime of your rich parents’ money can get you out of it, you understand ?”

“Jesus fuck, yes !” the kid gritted out, panting wildly, and trying to twist his way out, “Yes, yes, let me go, you fucking psycho !”

With a warning growl, Laura threw him on the pavement, tiny drops of blood shining on her fingers as she retracted her claws.

“What the fuck ?” the blonde murmured, pressing his own hand on the nape of his neck and scurrying out with his tail between his legs.

“Was Jackson here ?” Isaac later asked, as he shoved his way on the backseat, scrunching up his nose. “It smells like him.”

“No one was here,” Laura said, unusually distant.

But they were all still tiptoeing on thin ice so none of the pups pushed it.

* * *

 

Things weren’t good, not by far, but they were managing.

Isaac was sheepish about everything he said, Erica tried – and failed most of the times – to hold back her snarky comments, and Boyd was usually the one who had to do the talking for them – which was really not a good thing. Laura herself acted as if everything was normal but she was having a hard time restraining her need to welcome the pups in the pack entirely. Peter wouldn’t stand for that. He wanted punishment, a hard one, and honestly, Derek knew his mother would have too. Talia had been a nicer mother than an alpha; she had been fair, and had never asked anything more than people could give, but she also never gave second chances. A merciful Alpha never lasted long, especially in a pack as big as theirs back then.

So here was Laura, torn between her heart and her duty. Derek had never been gladder not to be an Alpha. He was pretty sure he would make a terrible one.

But that didn’t prevent him from trying to help, so here he was, trying to think of some punishment that would satisfy Peter without maiming one of the kids for life. They really needed to take a decision before the full moon because Peter wouldn’t allow the pups to run with them, and God knew they weren’t ready to be on their own.

The hardest thing was Isaac: he had been the one at fault for dating the Argent girl behind their back, and was the one deserving a punishment. But after what he had been through with his father, neither Derek nor Laura would allow him to be hurt physically. So Derek’s idea to rip out his claws – something that hurt like a son of a bitch but wasn’t permanent – was out of the question.

He was on the edge of the Lacrosse field, waiting for the boys to be done with their practice, and still pondering when he received the most unexpected call:

“M. Bennett,” he greeted, dumbfounded.

“Hi, Derek. It’s been a long time. I’m sorry I took so long to get back to you, I had an emergency at the farm.”

The gravelly voice of the Alpha who had sheltered him and Laura for so long before they went back to Beacon Hill was good to hear, but he wasn’t sure why he was even calling in the first place:

“Is everything alright ?” He asked, his mind already jumping to the most catastrophic conclusions.

There was brief silence, and really now he was starting to worry, until:

“I’m the one who should be asking you that. I thought you guys would be on the brink of war right now. Your uncle seemed to be, anyway.”

Derek frowned, first at the idea that Bennett would call their quarrel with the pups “a  brink of war”, then at the mention of his uncle. His phone buzzed in his hand – a call from Laura – but he dismissed it for now.

“You talked to Peter ?”

“Well… yeah, last night ? Derek… Didn’t he tell you ?”

Richard’s voice was incredulous and Derek could perfectly picture him, in the kitchen, his bushy eyebrows knotted above his grey eyes, with his pack cooking dinner in the background.

“Tell me what ?”

There was another silence and Derek could feel his spine tense a bit more at each passing second until Richard finally exhaled:

“Derek, Kate Argent is back in the States. I had an informant who confirmed it, she’s in Texas hunting a pack of Alpha werewolves. I called your house last night and got your uncle, I told him that. Did he really not tell you anything ?”

Derek’s phone buzzed again – Laura still – and suddenly, time seemed to stop. He hadn’t seen Peter since the day before. He should have told them. Why wouldn’t he told them ? That’s what they’d been waiting for all along, why they had even turned the pups in the first place, why they had been laying low in Beacon Hills, why they hadn’t waged war on Chris and his daughter. Why…

Unless…

“Derek, is everything alright ?”

“Richard, I gotta call you back,” he heard himself say, as if in a trance.

He hung up just in time to miss another call from Laura, but before he could call her back, his phone buzzed with two texts. The first was from Laura, clearly panicked:

_Peter’s stuff is gone and I can’t reach him. What’s happening ????? Did he tell you where he was going ???_

The second one was from Stiles, merely puzzled:

_Hey, was supposed to meet w/ Peter an hour ago and he wont answer his phone. Do u know whr he is ?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry for the long wait. I hope you'll still be interested. No beta this time, so feel free to point out any mistake that I could correct :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on AO3 and English is only my second language.
> 
> Feel free to tell me what you think of this story :)


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